The Fifth Marauder
by princessoffireskies
Summary: A teenage Slayer, taken from her family and friends will find her way back. BtVSHPMarauder Era to start, then preOOTP
1. Friends

Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy or Harry Potter. They belong to Joss Whedon and JK Rowling respectively.

The Potter twins stood in the middle of a mass of Hogwarts first-years. The Sorting ceremony was in process, and they were dreading the possiblity of being seperated. The two had hardly been apart since birth. The boy who'd just been sorted stepped down, and the two thought as one. - It's us next. -

"Potter, Elizabeth!" Professor McGonagall shouted, and James squeezed her hand as she walked up to the stool.

The old hat was placed on top of her head, and Elizabeth sat, waiting. "Hmm," a voice spoke in her ear, "where to put you? You've got plenty of potential, that's for sure. A lot of fight, and spirit. GRYFFINDOR!" The Hat yelled out to the rest of the Hall. Elizabeth went and sat down at the Gryffindor table, after shooting a hopeful glance to her twin.

"Potter, James!"

The boy went to the stool, and listened to the Hat decide. "A twin! Let me see, where will you fit best? You've got bravery, too, boy, just like her. Better be GRYFFINDOR!"

James hurried down to his twin sister, sitting next to her and hugging her. "We'll stay together!" she whispered happily.

The Sorting Ceremony finished, and the food appeared.

A first-year boy with long black hair and grey eyes leaned over towards James, saying, "What's with the hugging?"

"She's my twin sister, she was scared we'd be seperated," he answered.

The boy let out a bark-like laugh, before adding, "I'm Sirius, by the way. Sirius Black."

"James Potter."

Next to him, Elizabeth was talking to a red-haired girl.

"My name's Lily Evans," the girl said.

"I'm Elizabeth Potter. That's James," Elizabeth replied, gesturing to her brother.

Sirius had just said something stupid to James, so both were laughing uncontrollably, along with the other two First-years Gryffindor boys.

Both girls rolled their eyes and said together, "Boys!"

"Hey!" James' voice spoke in Elizabeth's head, "You don't even know what he said!"

"Whatever James!" She answered aloud, gaining odd looks from the others.

"Why do I get the feeling we've missed something?" One of the other boys, Remus Lupin, murmured.

"Ha! You as good as admitted it! Anyway, you shouldn't be judging, look at yourself!" James shot back at his twin.

"Don't even start with that! You know full well I could beat you, any day, any time!"

"So sure of yourself, Buffy?" The four others froze, confused.

"James! You promised!" the blonde girl cried, tears evident in her eyes.

"Sorry, Elizabeth, I didn't mean to!" her brother replied. The girl looked upset for a moment longer, then immediately brightened.

"Got you!" she laughed. "You thought I was upset!"

"Ha ha." James said, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

"Er, Elizabeth?"

"Yeah, Lily?"

"Why did he call you Buffy?"

"Oh, when we were little, James couldn't say 'Elizabeth' or 'Beth' as I was called at the time. He could only say 'Buffy'. So it stuck."

The Feast passed with the six new students laughing and joking, until finally it was over, and Dumbledore sent all the students to bed (after a rendition of the school song, of course.).

The six entered the common room, and went to their separate dormitories.


	2. Mindlink

Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy or Harry Potter. They belong to Joss Whedon and JK Rowling respectively.

In The Girls Room...

Lily, Buffy and two other girls shared a room. The others girls, Sara and Meredith soon fell asleep, so Buffy and Lily were left to talk about that evening.

"So, what do you think?" Lily asked.

"Well, they seem nice, for boys," Buffy answered her.

"Yeah, they did. What was with you and James though? It was like you were halfway through a conversation when you started."

"It's a twin thing. We can shared thoughts."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"So you could send him any thought, right now!"

"Uh hu."

"Do it!"

"What to send..." Buffy mused, both girls laughing hysterically.

The Boys Dorm...

"So, James," Sirius started.

"Yeah?"

"You and Buffy are-" Sirius was cut of by a sudden yell from James.

"What the hell was that!" He said to his new best friend.

"Buffy! She sent me... urgh!" James broke off, shuddering. "I'll get her for this!"

"Er, James, how can Buffy have sent you anything?" Remus asked, confused.

"Stupid twin mindlink..." the dark-haired Potter mumbled to himself.

"What?"

"Me and Buffy, we have this mindlink, we can send each other thoughts, and she decided to takes advantage of that by sending me something I never want to see again." James grumbled.

"James," Sirius started, a slow smile spreading across his face. "You do realise exactly how much fun you could have with that, right?"

A grin grew on the other boy's face, soon followed by smirks from Peter and Remus.

"Payback time."


	3. Lies

Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy or Harry Potter. They belong to Joss Whedon and JK Rowling respectively.

Three years passed for the six friends, all normal years, well, as normal as they could be in Hogwarts. Especially for the Marauders, as the boys called the group. But, in that third summer, one of the group was about to have their life turned upside down.

Elizabeth "Buffy" Potter was Called as the new Slayer. A secret she would have to keep from her friends, family and even her twin brother. She had been stopped in the street one day and given two books by a strange, tweed-clad man. "Slayer" the first title read, and the other "Vampyr". Buffy knew the second she read the note inside the first book, that her life would never be the same.

"To Miss Elizabeth Potter,

In every generation there is a Chosen One. She alone will stand against the vampires, the demons and the forces of darkness. She is the Slayer.

This is the way it has always been, and this is the way it shall always be.

You are the Slayer.

Yours sincerely,

Quentin Travers, Head of the Council of Watchers."

She hid the note inside her diary, praying that it was all a joke. A stupid misunderstanding. But September 1st, the day she was to travel back to Hogwarts would crush that hope entirely.

Buffy and James Potter walked through the barrier to Platform 9¾. As soon as they stepped onto the platform, they were pulled into a group hug by their four friends, Sirius, Remus, Peter and Lily. As the smallest of the group, Buffy ended up squashed in the middle, something she suspected Sirius was to blame for, as it always happened. But today was different. Today was the day that she would have to start keeping an enormous secret from the rest of the group.

After the friends were settled in a private compartment, and the train was moving, Sirius leaned over to talk to James.

"Hey, James," he whispered.

"Yeah?" was the reply.

"What's wrong with your sister?"

"I don't know! She's been like that for half the summer!"

"What are you two whispering about?" Remus Lupin, the more sensible boy, asked.

"Buffy." The pair hissed back in unison.

The three boys looked over at the petite blonde girl. Instead of her usual chipper attitude, she was gazing out the window, a sad look on her face. She was also writing in a black book, something they'd never seen her do.

"What's the book?" Remus asked, looking to the girl's twin.

"Her diary, I think," was the reply.

"And she's got it out in public?" Sirius said incredulously, "With us in the room? She's crazy."

Buffy was in fact writing in her diary.

_What if it's true? How will I ever keep it from them if it is? What if I am the Slayer?_

She shook her head, laughing to herself. Of course it wasn't real! For the rest of the journey, she acted like her usual self, all bright and bubbly.


	4. Truth

The six Gryffindors sat in the Great Hall reading their new timetables. Buffy spotted an extra sheet of parchment with hers. She picked it up and read it.

"Miss Elizabeth Potter. Please come to my office immediately. Professor Dumbledore."

The blonde girl sighed, wondering what this could possibly be about. She and the boys hadn't even pulled their Back-To-School prank yet. A voice behind her snapped her away from her thoughts.

"Why have you got to see Dumbledore?" her brother asked.

"No idea," she replied. The girl said a quick goodbye to her friends and walked out of the Great Hall.

"What was all that about?" Lily said, her concern for her best friend overcoming her dislike for the four boys.

"No idea," James echoed.

"Ah, Miss Potter. Have a seat." The girl did as she was told, confused as to why she was there.

"This may come as a shock, Miss Potter. In every generation there is a Chosen One. She alone will stand against the vampires, the demons and the forces of darkness. She is the Slayer." Buffy was quickly becoming anxious, why was the Headmaster saying this? Could that note be the truth?

"For the first time in the history of Hogwarts, a student has been called as the Slayer. I'm afraid you are the new Slayer, Miss Potter." Buffy was in shock. It was true.

"Professor?" she asked, her voice shaking, "What is a 'Slayer'?"

"In short, a girl who has extraordinary strength and power. You must be trained, unfortunately our world has little contact with the Watcher's Council, so you must train yourself. I believe you know of the Room of Requirement? That should be a perfect place. When the time comes you will also have to patrol Hogsmeade at night. And another thing, in the wizarding world the Slayer is generally regarded as a myth, as a witch has never been Called before now. Your role as the Slayer must be kept a secret."

Buffy left the office, knowing that her life would never be the same. She was no longer just Elizabeth Potter, or even Elizabeth Potter, the witch. From now on, she was Elizabeth Potter, the Vampire Slayer. Great.

Sirius, James, Remus, Peter and Lily were all sat waiting in the common room when she entered. Buffy sighed, knowing that they'd want an explanation.

"Buffy!" Remus called, "What was that about?"

The Slayer walked over to her friends, desperately trying to come up with a lie good enough to fool them all, especially James.

"Nothing important," she replied, "Dumbledore just wanted me to keep an eye on you two." She finished, gesturing to James and Sirius, "keep you out of trouble."

"What, our girl's turned good?" Sirius mocked, "never thought I'd see the day."

"As if," the girl said, "What do you take me for? Anyway, I'm going to bed, night!"


	5. Discovery

The six Gryffindors are sat around the fire. Buffy, Lily and Remus are writing essays, James and Sirius are joking around, and Peter is watching. Buffy finishes what she is doing, puts down her quill, rolls up the parchment and packs them into her bag.

"I've got to go," she said, turning to leave.

"Why?" Peter asked.

"Detention," the young Slayer answered, before hurrying out of the portrait hole.

"Well, that's weird," Lily commented.

"Yeah, it is," James added, slowly, "especially as she didn't get detention today."

"You mean…" Sirius put in, looking at his best friend.

"She's hiding something and I'm gonna find out what." James finished, picking up his bag and following his twin sister.

Once outside he slipped on his Invisibility Cloak and continued to follow, unseen by all. James stayed a few people behind his sister, trailing her as she hurried through the halls. She reached a tapestry, of Barnabas the Barmy, and paced up and down, clearly concentrating hard. A wooden door appeared opposite her.

-Why is she going into the Room?- James thought, -I'll just follow her.- He slipped in silently, and watched as Buffy trained. She spun, kicked, and fought, all barehanded, before picking up a crossbow and completing a target practice. She finished after around two hours, and James couldn't contain his questions any longer. He threw off the Cloak as his sister turned to leave.

"James! What are you doing here!" she cried, fear in her voice. –What did he see?-

"Finding out what you've been hiding from us all," her brother said coolly, "Care to explain?"

-I'll have to tell him!- Buffy realised. –Dumbledore'll kill me for sure!-

"James," Buffy answered slowly, "I'm sorry that I've been lying to you all, but Dumbledore made me swear not to tell you, any of you. And if I tell you the truth, you can't breathe a word to the others. Not even Sirius."

"I promise, Buffy. Just tell me."

"This summer, a weird man came up to me in Diagon Alley. He gave me two books, one about a girl called the Slayer, the other about vampires and demons. Inside the first was this note," she said pulling it out of her bag, "It said some kind of prophecy or something, 'In every generation there is a Chosen One. She alone will stand against the vampires, the demons and the forces of darkness. She is the Slayer.' Then it said I was the Slayer. I didn't believe it, obviously. Part of me thought it was you or Sirius playing a prank on me! But then at the start of term, Dumbledore told me it was true. I've been sneaking off for the last three months to train, and two weeks ago I started patrolling. I'm sorry, I should have told my own brother."

"I knew something was off! All those excuses! And we're in all the same classes, I knew you didn't have detention!"

"James, don't tell the others, please!"

"I won't, but why are you so worked up?"

"James, a Slayer is supposed to have a really short lifetime. Most die before they reach eighteen. It's dangerous, I can't let any of you get hurt!"

"Buffy, we have wands! What could happen?"

"Magic doesn't solve everything, James. Some, most even, demons are impervious to spells. Some get stronger when hit with them. I can't risk that!"


	6. Outburst

Three more months past. The Marauders, (James, Sirius, Peter, Remus and Buffy) had found out about Remus' "furry little problem" as James put it. That had lead to James asking Buffy if Slayers killed werewolves. ("Of course not! How could you even suggest that!"). The five of them had been searching for a way to help, but had found nothing so far.

They were sat in the boys dorm, discussing ideas.

"Maybe we'd find something in the Restricted Section? I'm sure I could get permission." Buffy offered, as she had in fact been given a pass to all the books by Dumbledore, to aid her in Slaying.

"I still don't want you involved in this!" James grumbled. Buffy had been hearing this very often, but today she snapped.

"James Potter! How stupid are you!" she ranted, "You know full well that only one person in this room could defend themselves from a werewolf at this moment!"

"Er, Buffy," Peter broke in, "who do you mean?"

If Buffy had been calmer, she would have back tracked, lied, done something different. She would never have done what se did.

"I mean me."

"Buffy!" James said in her mind, "You should not have said that! They're going to ask!"

"What?" Remus asked, "How could you defend yourself?"

"Yeah, you're tiny!" Sirius added, which is most probably the worst thing he could have said.

"Because, because," Buffy said, desperately trying to think of a plausible lie. She sighed, there was nothing she could do.

"Because I'm the Slayer." She admitted softly, "The one girl in all the world."

Sirius just laughed. "The Slayer's a myth, everyone knows that!"

"It's true, Sirius," James answered for his sister, "I found out three months ago, it's why she sneaks off all the time. It's why Dumbledore spoke to her on the first day of term."

The group sat in silence for a minute. Then…

"Prove it."

Buffy turned to look at the speaker, Sirius. "Fine," she answered coldly, "follow me."


	7. Demo

Buffy lead the group (including Lily, who she'd decided deserved to know) to the Room of Requirement. She asked the Room to become her training room. When the door appeared, she led them inside, saying, "Welcome to my world."

The group gazed around, at the walls lined with cabinets, full of books. At the vaulting horse, the punching bag, the targets, the training dummy. At the mats, the heavy wooden chests. Even James, who had been in before, was staring silently. The amount of equipment had double since he'd been in there last, and the blackboard on the far wall now held to pictures of two demons, and notes on them. He gulped when he saw an emergency first aid kit.

Buffy disappeared into a cupboard, and came out in loose black sweatpants, a red vest top and black training shoes, her long hair tied tightly back. She gestured for them to sit, and then told them her story.

"Anyone want a demonstration?" she asked. Peter nodded, so she went over to the punching bag.

"Who do you think is the strongest out of you?" she questioned the group. They chose Sirius, so she told him to hit the bag as hard as he could. When he had done so, the bag swung a fair amount. Then Buffy stepped up to the bag.

She punched with such ferocity and strength that the bag flew clear off its chain across the room. "Oops," she said quietly.

"Next demo," she continued, moving over to a chest, and pulling out a crossbow and bolts. She shot a bolt into the heart of the target with ease, then handed it to James, as the best shot. He fired, and nearly missed the target because of the recoil.

"I'd show you more, but I have to go," Buffy apologised, "but do you believe me?"

Her friends assured her that they did, but asked why she needed to leave. After all, it was already past curfew.

"I have to patrol," she admitted, "I have permission from Dumbledore to patrol the Forest and Hogsmeade."

As Sirius opened his mouth to speak, Buffy cut him off, "No! Don't say it! Don't even think about it! There is no way you are coming with me!"

"Why not?" Lily asked, confused. -Surely she'd like some company.-

"It's too dangerous, Lil," Buffy answered, "I've never let James come, and I'm not letting you lot either!"

"Buffy, maybe you should let us," James put in.

"James, not you too! Ree, please tell them that they can't!" Buffy pleaded, appealing to the more logical boy.

"Maybe it would be best if you let us, Buffy," he said softly, "that way Sirius and James won't follow under the Cloak. You know they would."

"Fine!" Buffy exclaimed, defeated. "But I'm loading you up with weapons!"

She walked away, into the cupboard again.

"Buffy? What are you doing?" Lily called out to her best friend.

"Changing for patrol!" came the muffled reply.

A few minutes later she reappeared, dressed in black jeans, an emerald green halter neck top, black boots and a black leather jacket.

"That's what you're patrolling in?" James said, not believing his eyes, "You can't!"

"I can, I will and I am, Jamesie," was the answer, "And Siri? Put your eyes back in."

James turned to his best friend, giving him the most evil look he could muster.

"Sorry, mate," Sirius mumbled.

Buffy opened up a drawer in a chest and put a cross necklace on, before tossing some to her friends. She pulled out weapon after weapon, laying them all out on to a table. She selected a folding sword and two stakes for herself, tucking them away inside her jacket, before considering what to give the others.

"Everyone grab at least one stake and one vial of Holy Water," she announced, "but make sure you have your wands. James, Sirius, I suppose you two can handle a crossbow each. Be careful, don't shoot unless I tell you to, and if I say stay back, you do so. All of you, if I tell you not to use magic, don't. Hide your weapons under your jackets, and go under the Cloak when we're in view of the castle. Got that?"

The group agreed and began to gather under the Cloak. Remus hung back a second, saying quietly to Buffy, "Slayers don't kill werewolves do they?"

"No, Ree, of course not! Werewolves are as close to humans as Slayers. I'd never kill a wolf, even if it was attacking. I have a special gun, a tranquilliser Dumbledore gave me, in case I met one." The girl reassured him.

They set out on patrol.


	8. Patrolling

The six Gryffindors walked quietly through the Forbidden Forest, James and Sirius whispering to each other about how to make Buffy let them all patrol with her every night, gaining dirty looks from the blonde girl and repeated frantic hisses of "Ssh!" from the redhead. Buffy was on edge, if there was anything in there, the two boys would have brought it right down upon them. Luckily, the Forest was empty of demons, so the group moved on to Hogsmeade without a fight.

Stepping carefully through the cemetery, Buffy heard a sound, the crack of a branch. She immediately tensed, motioning for her friends to stay back.

"Slayer!" a female vampire said, jumping out from behind a bush.

"Slayee!" Buffy returned, not missing a beat. She relaxed, one fledgling vamp wouldn't be any trouble.

The Slayer sprang forward, punching the vampire three times before staking it. The five teens behind her watched in shock as the vampire crumbled into dust in front of them.

"Man, it's dead tonight! Just when I need a good Slay as well." Buffy sighed, casting a dark look at her brother. She sensed a group of vampires approaching, and smiled, "Or maybe I will have some fun."

The group appeared before her, the leader saying, "I will drain you dry, Slayer, then dance on your grave!"

"Sure, and I've never heard that line," Buffy quipped, continuing, "Face it, you'll be dust in the wind and I'll walk away. That's how it works."

The group behind her couldn't believe that she was being so flippant. After all, vampires were deadly.

A predatory grin lit Buffy's face, -I'm so going enjoy this. Plus, they'll get to see what a Slayer really is.-

She used a headstone to hurl herself forward, landing a kick into the leader's chest. The fight went on for a while, the younger vamps gone, three dispatched by James and Sirius's crossbows, two by Remus and Lily's carefully timed calls of "Incendio!", leaving only Buffy and the leader locked in combat.

Buffy's was no longer so sure of herself, this vampire was clearly a good fighter, and she let the Slayer side of her take over completely, her moves becoming more ambitious, less practised. She flipped, ducked, blocked, spun, jumped, punched and kicked, eventually pinning the vampire beneath her and driving her stake through it's unbeating heart, saying, "And your dust!"

She turned slowly to face her friends. They were all staring in awe at her. Lily recovered first.

"Wow," she breathed, "did I really see them turn to dust?"

"Yeah," Buffy replied, realising that she hadn't mentioned it before, "that's one plus, no mess left behind." The group began to wander back towards Hogsmeade, taking the secret tunnel from Honeydukes for speed. They all either asked Buffy questions or commented on her fight with the leader. Well, all except for Sirius, who was, strangely, silent.

Halfway back to the castle, he burst out, "We have to come with you every night!" causing James to laugh and say, "Finally, he speaks! Thought you'd lost your voice!"

Buffy didn't answer. She really liked having company, and they'd been a real help that night. But what if one of them got hurt, or even worse – died and it would all be her fault. She'd never be able to live with herself if that happened.


	9. Arguments

Buffy simply couldn't sleep the night after she took her friends patrolling with her. In fact, she'd been distracted and hardly slept for a week. If it wasn't for Slayer perks she'd have been dead on her feet. She'd been slipping out to patrol later, and avoiding the constant asking if they could come again. The same conversation kept going round her mind.

-They just want to keep me company.- The Buffy side off her said.

-_It's too dangerous.- _ The Slayer argued back.

-They'll be careful…-

_-You know that they'll get too sure of themselves.-_

-I'll protect them!-

_-How can you fight if you are constantly checking if they are okay?-_

-Lil wouldn't let the boys do anything dangerous.-

_-What if they were used against you, kidnapped to get to you.-_

-They wouldn't be, you can't kidnap someone from Hogwarts! And in Hogsmeade we're all together.-

_-Hurt then. Or killed, because of you….-_

The answer came to her then – Training! She'd tell them they could come, as long as they trained with her! If they refused, they couldn't patrol. End of story. And she'd warn them about the danger properly, including the one terrible thing that only James knew…..

"_Most Slayers die before they turn eighteen……………."_


	10. Answers

The four boys were sat in the library, researching ways to keep Remus company during his transformations when James heard Buffy's voice speaking in his head for the first time since they all patrolled.

"Guys," he whispered, so as not to invoke the librarian's wrath, "just got a message from Little Sis."

"What? How?" Peter said, confused. Sirius hit him.

"You stupid git! Twins, remember! Mind talk!" Remus hissed.

"Anyway, she wants us to meet her in the Room of Requirement in an hour and to bring Lily. She said to tell you she was sorry for ignoring us, and she had a good reason that will be explained. Also, she said something about answering Sirius' question. What ever that means," elder (by five minutes!) Potter finished, looking at his best friend.

"The one I asked after finding out about her 'night-time problem'."

"Don't call it that! She'll kill you!" James defended his sister for once.

"Why?"

"People will think she's afraid of the dark, you idiot!"

"What can I call it then?"

"Her 'unusual complaint'?" Peter offered.

"No! They'll think she's got some kind of disease."

"I've got it!" Remus said.

"What?" the three other boys asked together.

"We'll ask Buffy." The others groaned, only he would stop the game then.

An hour later, the boys and Lily were entering the Room silently, attempting not to disturb Buffy as she was in the middle of a one-handed handstand on top of a very high pile of books and chairs. Sensing them enter behind her, she flipped back to the floor, turning as she did so.

"Hey, guys," she said softly. –Do they still want to be friends, after all, I have avoided and ignored them all for over a week.-

"Buffy!" Lily cried, rushing over and hugging her, "Where have you been?"

"Sorry, Lil," Buffy said, "I've been thinking. Well, more like arguing with myself, actually."

"Do you have an answer to my question? Can we come patrolling with you every night?" Sirius cut in, wanting to get his answer.

"Yeah, I do."

The boys sat down, James saying, "Well?"

"You guys can patrol with me," Buffy started, causing the rest to grin triumphantly, "if you let me train you. If you won't train, you don't come. End of. Anyway, no other Slayer has taken people on patrol with her, so count yourselves very lucky."

"Why do we need training?" Peter asked.

"Because I left one thing out when I told you guys the truth," Buffy said, ashamed that she hadn't told them, and afraid of their reactions, "The fact is, Slayers, they die young. Real young. Most don't make it to eighteen and no Slayer has ever lasted more than four years. Even if I live for four years, I might not even manage graduate from Hogwarts." Buffy turned away from her friends as she finished, not wanting them to see the tears coursing down her cheeks. James immediately wrapped his twin in a hug, quickly followed by the others.

"Don't worry," Remus whispered, "You'll be okay."

"Thanks, Ree, I hope so."

"I know so," Sirius cut in, "You're a Marauder, and we look after our own."


	11. Attacked

As the Marauders and Lily were wandering back to the common room after the latest training session, James suddenly pulled them back, stopping them from turning a corner.

"Slytherins!" he hissed to the group.

"Who?" Sirius asked.

"Malfoy, Snivellus, your cousins, your brother, Lestrange, Nott, Crabbe and Goyle."

"We can take 'em, no problem," Sirius smirked, "Can't wait to see Malfoy on the end of Tigerlily's Bat-Bogey hex."

"Let me go first," Buffy whispered, "so they think the rest of you aren't here. They've seen me on my way to and from training before, they won't suspect a thing."

"Brilliant!" Peter said.

"Go!" James urged his sister.

Buffy sauntered round the corner, seeming not to notice the Slytherins until they were blocking her path completely. She glanced behind her, they were all around her. –Uh oh.-

"It's the little Potter brat," Lucius hissed maliciously, "what are you doing wandering the corridors all alone? Without your precious brother and his demented friends?"

"Walking," Buffy answered coolly. –Just like he's a vamp or demon, there's not need to be scared.- But in truth, if one thing in the world scared her, it was Malfoy. Ever since last year…

Flashback

"Oh look, it's the blood traitor Potter girl," Lucius said sarcastically. For once he was quite alone in the hall, no followers trailing behind him. And Buffy was alone too. Malfoy stepped towards her, making her take another step away, her back now pressed against the wall.

"You wouldn't want anything to happen to you, now, would you? After all, you never know who's going to come round the corner," The large Slytherin said, trapping her, "or what they could do to you," he added, trailing a hand down the petite blonde's side. As she tried to push him off her, he caught her wrist and pushed her back into the wall.

"You need to learn your place, bitch!" He yelled over his shoulder, after shoving her away and starting to walk away. Buffy had waited until he was out of earshot, then simply slipped down to the ground and her tears rolled silently down her cheeks. She'd never told the boys or Lily.

End Flashback

Buffy forced down her fear, and stood defiantly in the midst of the Slytherins.

"What, not learnt your lesson from last time, blood traitor?" Bellatrix Black sneered.

Behind the corner, the rest of the Gryffindors stopped dead. Last time?

"Yes, I would have thought even a stupid muggle-lover like you would have learnt something from Lucius' teaching," Narcissa, Bella's younger sibling, put in.

The Gryffindors, peering around the corner saw Buffy tense and Lily saw her flinch.

"Well, maybe I see more in people than their 'status'," Buffy said, in fake confidence.

The elder Black sister slapped the blonde girl – hard. Buffy pushed the Slayer in her down, she couldn't unleash it here, no matter how much she wanted to. She just turned back to gaze defiantly at the Slytherin girl, only resulting in receiving four deep cuts in her left cheek, from Bellatrix's long nails. The crimson blood welling up against her pale skin finally pushed her friends into action, as they sprang out, wands drawn.

"Leave my sister alone!" James yelled, furious that she was hurt, furious that she'd sent herself into that situation, furious at himself for letting her.

A volley of jinxes and hexs flew between the two groups, the Slytherins distracting the Gryffindors while Malfoy and Bellatrix continued to 'teach' Buffy about respect and status. By the time the Gryffindors had won the many duels, the petite Potter was crying uncontrollably on the floor. As James and Sirius stepped towards her, Lily cut them off, realising what part of Malfoy's 'lesson' would have included.

"Let me," the redhead said softly, moving to her best friend's side, "it's me, Buffy. Lily. They're gone, it's okay." She helped Buffy up from the floor and gently led the smaller girl away.


	12. Coverup

Lily took Buffy straight back to their dorm, knowing that her best friend would not want to speak to the boys. She helped the petite blonde up the stairs and sat her down on her bed. The two girls sat in the silence of the otherwise empty dormitory for few minutes.

"Buffy?" Lily started cautiously, "Tell me what happened." The redhead's quiet command made the other girl look up, revealing the tears streaming down her pale cheeks.

"Oh, Lil," she whispered, "I've been wanting to tell you for ages."

Lily was crying along with her friend by the time her story was done. The room fell silent as the two girls wiped their eyes.

"Promise me you won't tell anyone, Lily. Not even the boys. Especially not James, he'd go mad!"

"I promise."

"I'll tell them some story, just act like you know it, if I know James he'll be trying to get up here in a minute."

From somewhere below them there came a thud and a few muffled yells.

"Right on time," Lily said dryly. The two girls grabbed a rug and slid gracefully down the stair-slide.

"Time to face the music," Buffy muttered to Lily, causing the other girl to hide a smile.

The four boys, well mainly James and Sirius, dragged the girls up to their dorm room, dropping them onto James' bed.

"Well?" Sirius asked, a little harshly.

"Easy, Sirius," Remus hissed, "she's been upset."

"Yes, and I want to know what the hell that git was going on about!"

"Siri, don't," Buffy whispered, tears in her eyes again, "please. Just don't." Her tears began to fall and Lily wrapped her friend in a tight hug, tears springing to her own eyes as she remembered Buffy's tale, glaring at the boy who had upset Buffy.

"C'mon, Buffy," Lily said softly into the girl's ear, "It'll be okay, you can get through this. I know you can." Buffy gave a weak, watery smile and faced her brother.

"James, you're not going to like this." Buffy warned.

"Great," the bespectacled boy muttered.

"Buffy, we'll understand," Remus assured her.

"Well, I wasn't lying when I said I'd met the Slytherins on my way back to the tower from the Room of Requirement. When Malfoy said 'last time' he meant the last time I met them. I was distracted, I'd spent much of my training researching a particularly hard to kill demon, and still had nothing much on it. They cornered me and insulted me, then told me to learn my place, threatening that they'd know if I didn't. Needless to say, it wasn't the best experience," the younger Potter twin finished sadly.

Lily hid another smile, it really was a good cover story, and the boys wouldn't suspect a thing. Best of all, Buffy had warned James and he wasn't at all happy. She could tell that there was only one thing on the four boys' minds, revenge. She didn't always see eye to eye with them, no make that she hardly ever, but if she knew one thing about these four boys, it was this - they were all fiercely protective of Buffy, even Peter. No one hurt their girl and got away with it.


	13. Revenge

The second the door shut behind the two girls, James whipped round to face the other male Marauders.

"We need a plan."

"No one hurts our girl and gets away with it," Sirius snarled.

"She's a Marauder, she's one of us," Remus said angrily.

"Through and through!" Peter added, also annoyed.

"And we look after our own," James finished, a murderous look in his eye.

Remus hurried over to his bedside cabinet, where all the groups' ideas were stashed until they were used. He flipped through the pile before selecting a few that he liked. He then placed the papers in the centre of the floor, where the other three boys were lying.

"We've got exploding meals, uncontrollable speech, disappearing seats or constantly dirty clothes that they can't change. Which do you think?"

"How about them all?" Sirius muttered darkly.

"I like the idea, mate," James answered, "but we need something a bit more personal too."

"As in?" Peter prompted.

"Perhaps making them eat in a pigsty at dinner, and not let them leave until the end? Making it look like they are doing it themselves, of course," Remus suggested with a smirk.

"Definitely, but with a sign above saying, 'We know our place' and their signatures underneath," Sirius put in, an evil grin upon his face.

"When?" James asked, looking around the group.

"In two days, so they won't expect it," Remus decided.

"Two days," they echoed.

The Slytherins would pay for hurting Buffy, and the Marauders couldn't wait.


	14. Cuts

Next morning, Buffy was late to meet the boys for breakfast, a rare occurrence as the girl was an early riser. The common room was empty, except for the four boys and James was getting so concerned about where his twin was that Remus and Sirius were forcibly restraining him from attempting to fly up the girls staircase. When she finally arrived, the common room was empty and Remus could tell Buffy was very clearly hiding her left arm and right cheek from them. As it was a Saturday, students were in casual clothing, and Buffy never wore a jacket, until today.

"Buffy," Remus said gently, "what are you hiding?"

"Nothing," Buffy lied – a little given away by the speed she answered at.

"Show us," the werewolf commanded. Buffy sighed and rolled her eyes dramatically. She pushed back the hair covering the cheek, revealing four long cuts, starting to heal.

"Bellatrix's work?" James questioned, and after a nod from his twin continued, "But how are they healing already?"

"Slayer healing. It's pretty fast," the blonde girl answered.

"And the arm?" Remus cut in, noticing what the others had not.

"Damn!" Buffy muttered, steeling herself for the worst as she pulled up the sleeve of her jacket to reveal a large white bandage.

"And under that?" Sirius demanded. Buffy slowly unwrapped the fabric to show bloodstained padding. She peeled that away to expose a deep, jagged slash running from her wrist to her elbow.

"I got it on patrol last night," she explained hurriedly, "I lost concentration in a fight. It's no big deal." She trails off, deftly covering her arm up again.

"Go to the hospital wing, Buffy," James ordered.

"I can't, I couldn't explain" Buffy argued quietly.

"I don't care what you say to explain it, just GO!"

"For God's sake, James! It'll be gone by tomorrow, what's the point?" the Potter girl cried, getting exasperated.

"The point is that you can't go wandering around the castle like that! What if somebody sees?"

"I'll be careful," Buffy answered, in a vain attempt to calm her raging twin.

"Careful! You promised you'd be bloody careful when I found out!"

"James," Buffy began, speaking softly and gently, "I can't help getting hurt. But I can't go to the hospital wing over something like this. It's entirely possible that next week I'll be hurt worse, and then it'd look suspicious."

"You're going," James said, his voice final. And with that, he and Sirius simply picked her up and carried her out of the common room.

"Put me down!" Buffy hissed, as the two boys waved cheerily in response to the confused looks they were getting.

"Nope," James grinned.

"Oh, I'm sorry, was I not clear enough for you? I meant, put me down if you wish to retain all of your limbs."

"You wouldn't," Sirius smirked, "you could never do such a thing to us, you know you love us."

"What if… Oh no." Buffy found herself staring straight at Professor Dumbledore.

"Mr Potter, Mr Black, may I ask why you are carrying Miss Potter through the corridors?" the Headmaster said, eyes twinkling.

"Well, Professor, my sister got caught in a trip jinx earlier and was refusing to visit the hospital wing, so Sirius and I decided to take her there," James lied.

"Carry on, then, Mr Potter." The trio just looked on, amazed.


	15. Payback

"Why are you doing this?" Elizabeth "Buffy" Potter cried, stumbling and nearly falling down the staircase. She wouldn't normally have had a problem, but today, she was being lead down for breakfast, blindfolded. Her twin brother was on one side, Sirius and Peter in front of her and Remus to the other side. With Sirius distracting her guides, namely Remus and James, she kept walking into things as they forgot to stop her. So far it had only been five minutes, and she was already mentally kicking herself for not working on getting around without her sight before in her training.

"It's a surprise, sis," James laughed.

"You'd think that would have sunken in by now," Remus teased.

"This better be good, you guys," Buffy warned.

"Why does that sound so much like a threat?" Peter asked.

"Oh don't worry, it's not a threat," the blonde Potter said, causing the smaller boy to relax, "It's a promise."

"Relax, Pete," Sirius put in, "she'll be pleased."

"So sure of that, Siri?" Buffy questioned, not realising they had entered the Great Hall. Sirius slipped behind her and removed the blindfold from her eyes. The five Marauders sat at the Gryffindor table, facing the empty Slytherin table.

"Er, guys? Did I miss something?" Buffy said, nonplussed.

"Just wait," Remus whispered in her ear. She looked around at her friends, hoping for some kind of clue as to what was going on, but all she received was four nearly identical smirks. Shaking her head, she turned back around, seeing the entire Slytherin house enter and go to sit down – but as they did the benches disappeared! They tried over and over, the students from the other three houses dissolving into shrieks of laughter, eventually giving up, and one student reached for some food and – BANG! All the food on the table flew up, the majority of it hitting the Slytherins in their faces. Buffy watched Malfoy, Snape and the others look down at their robes, trying everything to clean them, but never succeeding – unlike the rest of their House.

The blonde Gryffindor spun to face the four boys, a wide smile etched onto her features.

"You guys are amazing!" she hissed.

"Why thank you," her brother replied with a mock bow.

"I'm serious! I love you guys!" Buffy whispered, quickly wrapped in the centre of a group hug.

"Love you too, princess," Sirius said.

"Princess? Where did that come from?" Buffy laughed, breaking the moment.

"Oh, didn't you know?" Remus asked, and after a shake of the head from the girl, he continued, "well, after seeing how protective we are of you, especially James and Sirius, some people started referring to you as the Marauder's Princess."

"Cool," Buffy smiled, "so long as you remember to treat me like one!"

"What do you think today is all about?" James answered, eyebrows raised.

"Today? You mean there's more?"

"Yep," Peter said, smiling proudly.

"Did I mention how much I love you guys?"

"Yeah, but you can tell us again, we don't mind!" Sirius joked.

17yrs later in Sunnydale, California, USA

Buffy Summers gave a tired smile as the memory tailed off. There was more, she knew, but just for tonight she wanted to pretend that was the end, so she could stay safe with her lost friends forever. She'd been free then, her destiny fresh and not yet the burden it had become. Before war broke out, ripping her world to pieces. Before she lost her parents to that same war, before deaths were reported on a daily basis. Before she had been sent away by her twin brother, for her own and baby Dawn's safety. Before she'd had to leave the world she belonged in, and make a life for them, without her friends to catch her. Before…

Was that really when her life spiralled out of control? Was the war against Voldemort really the starting point?

_No,_ a voice whispered to her,_ it was before that. Malfoy started it all, remember?_

The petite Slayer shuddered as the memories flooded her mind. It had happened at the end of her third year at Hogwarts, just before Malfoy was to leave. He and his little gang had come up with a plan to humble the "great Marauders". To break their spirit once and for all. It had been known through out the school that Elizabeth Potter was the heart of the group, and so had been nicknamed the Marauders' Princess. A brief smile lit Buffy's face as she remembered Sirius going out of his way to treat her like a real princess after that. The Slytherin group had decided that if they took out the heart, the four boys would no longer trouble them. One night, the group had cornered Buffy after her training, Stunned her, and dragged her down to the dungeons. They had all left to stand guarded while Malfoy… while Malfoy raped her. Luckily for Buffy, the Potter twins had a unique link, connecting their minds. Buffy had sent out a distress call, and the four boys had arrived within minutes, but all the same, they had nearly been to late….

Flashback

"Get the hell away from her, you slimy bastard!" a familiar voice yelled. The petite girl turned her head, trying to see the new arrivals in the doorway through her tears. She made out the blurry shapes of her brother and Sirius roughly pulling Malfoy away from her, and Remus and Peter joining them near her. Sirius took one look at her and turned away, pure fury etched into his every feature. He forgot using his wand and began fight the Slytherin seventh year physically, with James soon jumping in, after reassuring his sister. Remus looked away as her gently pulled her skirt back into place and quickly fixed her shirt. He then carefully lifted the sobbing Buffy into his arms, whispering words of comfort, and trying to ignore his own raging desire to pound Malfoy's face in.

Soon, Malfoy was reduced to a snivelling heap on the floor, and the two raven haired Gryffindors returned to the trio in the corner. James took another look at his twin, tears springing into his hazel eyes. Sirius bent down and carried the broken Slayer in his arms, with the other boys forming a guard around them. As they had crossed the threshold into the dark corridor, James had viciously hexed any of the Slytherins who had dared come within ten feet of his sister, or any foolish enough to comment. That was all the petite blonde could remember of that night……

Present day

They'd told her what had happened, how Sirius had carried her up to their dorm room, laid her down on her brother's bed. Then her memory skipped ahead, to telling Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore her story, supported always by her friends. To telling her parents. To the court case, where Malfoy had walked away all because of his father's money. That was when her life got complicated, when she'd had to try and recover from her ordeal. After that, she'd been more or less alright, until the war. But now, after six years hidden from her world, having her age changed, one year in LA followed by six years and counting in Sunnydale, Buffy Summers was close to giving up all hope that she'd ever be Elizabeth Potter again.


	16. Memorial

London, England, after the destruction of Sunnydale

Dawn Summers walked through the halls of the Watcher's Council, heading to the main conference room. She knew what this was all about, the newly extended core Scooby Gang was going to discuss their futures today, and Dawn was secretly shocked she was invited to the meeting. Although Dawn was only just seventeen, she had done a great deal in the war against the First and was hoping that from now on she would be treated like a member of the group, instead of Buffy's little sister.

She pulled herself out of her thoughts as she reached the ornate oak doors of the chamber. She smiled as she remembered the search for a new Headquarters, eventually settling on the empty mansion in the heart of London. It was large and spacious, exactly right for housing the large, if not slightly odd, group of friends so close they were almost family. Dawn sighed as she remembered the hopes the gang had had of the new Slayers living and fighting beside them. Unfortunately, Willow's spell to activate them all had been turned out to be temporary, barely lasting until the old school bus had cleared Sunnydale. Tears sprung to her eyes as the faces of all the girls filled her memory. They'd all been injured, and when the Slayer powers had left their bodies, most died outright. Those who survive the initial power loss, generally didn't make it to the nearest hospital in LA, or died soon after they arrived. The only one who'd hung on longer than that was Kennedy, but even she hadn't lasted the night.

Dawn once again tore herself away from her train of thought and pushed the heavy doors open. She walked in gracefully, before dropping into only chair left, between Willow and Faith. She pulled out her notebook and pen, wanting to look prepared, so she could make a good impression. She let her gaze roam over the faces around the table, knowing that they had all lost people in the Sunnydale's last battle – Anya, Robin and Kennedy had all lost their lives, leaving Xander, Faith and Willow behind. They all felt the losses of the new Slayers hard, but these three were the worst. Dawn refused to let her thoughts dwell on the one she had lost – even though she hated herself for never apologising to him. Spike. He'd been a brother to her, and she'd turned against him, and never said she was sorry, even after he'd got his soul and fought for their side. If only… No, Dawn told herself, there's nothing you can do. Spike loved you, and he wouldn't want you to cry, he hated it when you did. She smiled as she remembered the many times she'd visited him after school, listening to his stories. Dawn snapped back to the present as Giles entered, taking his seat at the head of the table. The meeting was starting.

"Hello, everyone. Right, we're here to talk about the future," Giles began, "At the moment we only have this building and the few things we bought straight away. I understand that we are all tired, and wish for a break, but I'm afraid we cannot afford to. I have found the Old Council's funding, so we have no problems there. What we need to decide is where we go now. Any ideas?"

_Where do we go from here?_ The memory of Sweet's time in Sunnyhell came back to Dawn, she fought it off, returning to the present.

"Well, a memorial would be nice," Andrew suggested, shocking everyone.

"Yeah, for everyone who died. Not just in the last fight, but all of them," Xander put in.

"Yes, I quite agree," Giles said noting it down.

"We'll need to sort out our jobs here, right?" Willow added.

"Indeed."

"And we have to shop," Faith said, "I mean, we barely have anything."

"I'd like to… no, I want to find my family, my past. I need to see them again, need to know their okay," a far-off, dreamlike expression softening Buffy's features as she spoke once again of the life she'd lived before. An image flashed into Dawn's mind, of six older teens, and a two-year old boy. Although the memory wasn't her own, she knew, she felt like she need to meet them, for real. A smile crossed her face as she remembered their names – Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, Prongs, Shadowfly, Tigerlily and Prongs Jr, she remembered. No, those were nicknames, they were really called Remus, Peter, Sirius, James, Buffy, Lily and Harry. Now, for the first time, faces fit her sister's stories, of the five friends who'd terrorised Hogwarts, of the two girls who'd been closer than most sisters, of the two teens who'd fallen in love, after much trying on James' part. They were her second family, Dawn realised, even if they'd never truly met. Only James, Buffy and Harry were blood relatives, and Lily through marriage, but that was what her sister, her and these five people she'd never even met were – a family. And she wanted to find them just as much as Buffy did.


	17. Contact

Disclaimer - I am nobody, I own nothing. Except this idea. Other than that, all credit goes to JK Rowling and Joss Whedon respectively.

* * *

"So, what do we do now?" Dawn asked her sister. The two Potter girls were sat at the table of the Scooby Gang's large kitchen after the meeting, working out a plan of action.

"We write to Professor Dumbledore. If anyone can help us, it'll be him," Buffy answered, rooting around in her bag for a pen and paper, before Dawn took pity on her and passed her sister her own notebook and pen. Ten minutes later, Buffy was setting out for Diagon Alley under a glamour spell, the letter ready in her bag. They were taking the first step, a thought which brought a smile to the blonde Potter's face.

* * *

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was not often shocked. After all, when you have lived a life even half as eventful and long as his, you will find that very little shocks you. And yet, here he was, sat in his office, staring at the same piece of paper he had been staring at for close to five minutes now. Of course, this piece of paper was no blank sheet, it was a letter. A letter which read:

"_Dear Professor Dumbledore,_

_I suppose you may be surprised to hear from me after all these years, and I do wish I had been able to contact you sooner. Unfortunately, circumstances have not allowed me to write until now. For the last eight years, I have been in America, California to be exact. The later seven of those years, I have been living in Sunnydale, on the Hellmouth. My role as the only Slayer began when we left the Council, and I have been active ever since. However, a recent battle caused the destruction of my former home and my sister, our friends and I moved to London, to reform the destroyed Council of Watchers. Dawn and I wish to see our old friends and family again, and we hope you can help us in this. Any aid would be much appreciated, as we are anxious to combine our past with our present lives and rejoin the magical community after these thirteen longer years._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Elizabeth Ann Potter."_

So, Elizabeth and Dawn Potter had finally shown up. He had, along with her close friends, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin, been searching for the petite blonde Slayer and the brunette girl for years, but had never found a single clue as to their location, or even whether they were still living. The Hellmouth they had been residing on would have stopped their spells and scrying, he mused. Perhaps the Old Council had been actively preventing Elizabeth and Dawn from returning? Entirely possible – even highly likely. And now, Elizabeth had at last made contact. Dumbledore smiled, this would be a great surprise to the entire Order, not the mention young Harry. They had all nearly given up hope that Harry's two missing aunts were alive, all but Sirius and Remus, that is. Dumbledore stood and swiftly left his office.


	18. False Alarm

Disclaimer - I am nobody, I own nothing. Except this idea. Other than that, all credit goes to JK Rowling and Joss Whedon respectively.

* * *

Dawn Marie Summers – no, better make that Potter – was sat staring at her laptop's screen. The desk she was sitting at was in the centre of the spacious entrance hall in of the New Council of Watchers, London. She was supposedly welcoming visitors – a job Dawn loathed. In fact she'd much rather be out in the city, in her Wicca lessons with Willow, training with Buffy or Faith, listening to a story from her past, in the library translating some ancient text or otherwise, just vegging out in front of the TV. But as it was, she was stuck in the building and forced to pull a five hour shift at the desk. Of course, just because she had to be at the desk didn't mean she couldn't get some work done. The brunette teen had been working with Willow to hack into the Old Council's files, and Dawn had taken it upon herself to carry on during her shift. She had made a fair amount of progress, it would only take another day or so. The sound of footsteps crossing the polished wooden floor interrupted her work, eliciting a frustrated sigh from the teenager.

"Hello, welcome to the New Council of Watchers. How may I help you?" Dawn said, her voice overly-bright and a false smile on her face. She looked up at the guests – two men, one around 30, she would guess, the other so old she could not give an estimate.

"Dawn Potter, I presume?" the older man spoke. He had long silver-white hair, a beard to match and twinkling light blue eyes unlike any she had ever seen, but all of this failed to register in Dawn's terrified mind – he knew her real name. And after all of Buffy's explanations of the world the sisters belonged to, that wasn't good. Especially as they hadn't even had a reply to their letter. So Dawn did the only thing she could think of – tapped out an urgent message on her mobile for all the Scoobies – 'Two men in entrance hall – they know my real name! Help!'.

As she did this, she answered, "Who the hell are you and why are you here?" all traces of the smile and peppy tone gone. Before either man could reply, the entire gang was stood at the base of the sweeping staircase, with any weapon they had been able to grab primed and aimed at the two men.

"Step away from the desk." Faith ordered them. They backed away, stopping around ten feet away from Dawn. Faith was about to speak again when a gasp came from directly behind her.

"Guys, drop your weapons," Buffy said slowly, "it's safe."

"How can you know that, B?" Faith asked, wary of the strangers – both the Slayers, Willow and Dawn could feel the power emanating from the two, and it put the brunette Slayer on edge.

"Because I know them. Or I used to," the petite blonde answered, stepping through the ranks of the now unarmed Scooby Gang until she was directly in front of the two visitors, before looking up and saying, "Hello, Professor."

But the elder man – whom Buffy had addressed – was not the one to answer. Instead, the other man spoke up, his voice soft and disbelieving.

"Buffy? Is it that you?"

"It's really me, Moony," she whispered, "I'm back."

As the two old friends hugged, the second guest smiled, blue eyes twinkling as he said, "Welcome back, Elizabeth. And the same to you, Dawn, although I believe I owe you an apology for shocking you."

The young Wiccan now walked out from behind her desk, answering as she did so:

"It's all right. I was just startled is all." Dawn shrugged.

Buffy stepped out of Remus' arms, looking him over quickly. His brown hair was now flecked with grey, and his amber eyes seemed far too weary. She was about to mention the change in him, when he turned toward her sister.

"Hello, Dawn. Remember me?"

"As if Buffy would let me forget a thing!" Dawn laughed, hugging Remus.

* * *

Many long explanations later, Buffy and Dawn were heading out of the Council with Remus and Dumbledore on their way to Number 12, Grimmauld Place, Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. 


	19. Surprises

Disclaimer - As before, Harry Potter belongs to J K Rowling, Buffy belongs to Joss Whedon.

Dumbledore led the small group into the Black residence – which had literally appeared out of nowhere, after warning them to stay silent as they entered. He stopped them just outside the kitchen door, and began to quickly explain what would happen next.

"There is a meeting scheduled for tonight, and although we are slightly early, I believe the Order is all here, as well as the younger residents of Grimmauld Place, including young Harry. Remus and I will enter first, and then call on you to follow. I do believe that tonight's meeting may have to be rescheduled with all the excitement of your return to us. After all, even those who were not personally involved in the search – as most were – have been hoping for us to find you, although almost all had given up hope – thirteen years is a long time. Anyway, all's well that ends well."

Dumbledore smiled at the two Potters, before walking through the door, Remus close behind. The two girls had hurriedly changed their clothes before coming to Grimmauld Place, as Dawn had been 'dressed like a secretary' as she put it, and Buffy had been in training clothes. Buffy now wore black jeans, a blue tee-shirt reading "I'm blonde – what's your excuse?" and a soft woollen jacket. Dawn was dressed in dark blue jeans, a red cashmere jumper and a short leather jacket. Both girls wore sneakers, and had a multitude of weapons hidden away just in case. The sisters stood in silence, desperately wishing that the moment when they were reunited with their past would come sooner...

"Good evening, everyone," Dumbledore began, before adding, "No Molly, there is no need just yet." For she had been trying to force those still at school to leave.

"I have an announcement to make," he started again, "You will all remember, I'm sure, the mysterious disappearance of Elizabeth and Dawn Potter fourteen years ago? Many searches have been conducted since then, including our own, none of which have been successful. It would seem fitting, then, for those of you who knew Elizabeth well, that she and her sister would not be found until they wished to be. I am happy to say – "

But what Dumbledore was happy to say was never said. At that moment, the kitchen door flew open, revealing a petite blonde woman and a tall brunette teen, who was leaning against the doorframe, eyebrows raised and wearing an amused smirk.

"I think you'll find we've wanted to return for a long time, Professor," the blonde said.

"And _circumstances_ haven't allowed it," the brunette finished.

Stunned silence reigned in the room, varying expressions of pure shock and disbelief on most faces, the exceptions being the four who had come to Grimmauld Place together, all of whom looked highly amused. Sirius, who had been leaning against a counter, broke the silence, as he now stood directly in front of the sisters, saying, "Is this real? Are you…"

"It's real, we're real," Dawn confirmed, as Buffy seemed to be unable to speak all of a sudden.

Sirius smiled then, hugging Dawn, before holding her at arms length.

"You've grown up while I wasn't looking, pixie," he said, using the old nickname without thinking, "So tall, too. How could you? You were supposed to stay small."

"It happens," Dawn answered, smiling back.

He then turned to Buffy, hugging her to him tightly as well, as if afraid she'd disappear.

"Missed you, princess," he whispered into her hair.

"Missed you too, Siri," she replied, voice just as soft.

Buffy broke away from Sirius to look around the room, searching for one person. Her eyes found him, still frozen in shock.

"Hello, Harry," the Slayer said softly, "It's been a long time since I last saw you. You were just a baby, so tiny. I just wish we could have come back sooner. I'm so sorry."

"Why couldn't you? Why _didn't_ you?"

"There was always something in the way, stopping us. We'll explain later, Harry, I promise you."

"We'd have been here in a second if we could have, Harry," Dawn added.

Harry looked into the brunette girl's cerulean eyes and saw only truth, and nodded.


	20. Thoughts

Disclaimer - As I have said, Joss Whedon owns Buffy, JK Rowling owns Harry Potter. Still.

That night, Harry Potter lay awake in his bed, listening to his best friend's snores. Too much had happened that night for Harry to sleep; his mind was racing and far from close to finishing processing the events.

His two missing aunts were no longer missing, but sleeping in a house just across London and would be returning in the morning. It was so much to take in. After all, he'd only found out about their existence during his first year of Hogwarts, and had been unable to learn about them until his third year. And now, now they were here. But was he really okay with the fact they'd just reappeared after being MIA for fourteen years?

The way both Remus and Sirius talked about Elizabeth, or as they called her Buffy or Shadowfly, made her sound like nothing could stop her from doing exactly what she wanted. But now she was claiming 'circumstances' – whatever that meant – had stopped her? Harry couldn't help but feel angry that he'd had family who hadn't come, when he, Harry, needed them. He'd been told the story of how his father had forced Elizabeth to leave, for reasons he'd never been told, but a part of him was mad that his two aunts had fled the war and stayed safe, while his parents who'd been brave enough to stay were killed. It wasn't fair! Why should Elizabeth and Dawn have been allowed to run from Voldemort? Why should everyone else have had to stay? Why did they stay? If there was a way out for two of them, why didn't they all leave?

Harry had to admit that a large part of him was highly jealous of Dawn's luck in leaving. His aunt – only two years older than him – had been free from all the horrible things he'd gone through. How was it fair that she'd been safe, while he'd never been? How was it fair that Dawn had been safe, with family who loved her, while Harry had had to face countless dangers, and been stuck in Privet Drive, with the Dursleys, who treated him like a slave, who had forced him to sleep in the cupboard until he was eleven? How was it fair that she was fine, happy, normal even, with no nightmares, no guilt, no-one's death on her conscience, while Harry could never be normal, and was the reason for so many lives being ruined or ended? It wasn't. It wasn't fair at all.


	21. Buffy's Story Part ONE

Disclaimer - Buffy and co belong to Joss, Harry and co belong to JKRowling. Unfortunately, I am nothing but a delusional teenager, using their magical worlds for the fun of it.

"So, I guess it's story time, then," Buffy began. It was the next morning, and she and her sister were sat side by side in the kitchen of Number Twelve. They were facing the entire Order of the Pheonix, as well as the younger occupants of the house (Dawn had reasoned that as Harry deserved to know, the rest would either get it out of him, or bug her about it, so they may as well hear first hand).

"Dawnie, can you do the Giles bit? My version ends in blah, blah, blah."

"Do I have to?" Dawn moaned, but at a glare from the blonde Slayer continued, "Alright, alright. Jeez, no need to glare."

She cleared her throat and intoned, "In every generation there is a Chosen One. She alone will stand against the Vampires, the Demons and the Forces of Darkness. She is the Slayer."

"I am the Slayer," Buffy finished.

"Technically, _a_ Slayer these days." Dawn interrupted.

"_Anyway_," Buffy cut across, "the point of all this is to explain exactly where we've been for the last fourteen years, and why we left. Me being the Slayer is that reason. I was Called during my third year at Hogwarts, the first and only student ever to be Called. I used to train in the Room of Requirement, and patrol the Forest and Hogsmeade at night. After three months, James found out. Three months later, the entire group knew. They started to train with me, and patrol occasionally. It continued that way throughout my years at Hogwarts, with only one part of my life as the Slayer really worrying me – that one line in the book I'd been given. 'Most Slayers die before they reach eighteen'. It haunted me, knowing that every day took me closer and closer to the time limit hanging over my head. Then the War started. I was desperate to fight, right from the start. It was my duty, my destiny, to fight. As soon as I left school, I joined the newly formed Order of the Pheonix, along with my friends. That year my father died, just after my mother became pregnant with Dawn, her 'miracle child'. When Dawn was born, Mum died. Having a baby was too much for her. James and I named her, Dawn Marie Potter. Marie for Lily's, her godmother's, middle name. Dawn for a link to Sirius and Remus, through astronomy and mythology. The six of us looked after her. James and I made a promise the day she was born that we would protect our baby sister no matter what, a promise that James and Lily later repeated for Harry. This was the promise that would force me to take Dawnie and run three years later."

"After Harry was born, we were all so happy. Lily and James walked around for weeks with permanent smiles etched into their faces, and Sirius was nearly crying ever time he looked at his godson, not that Remus and I were any better. It wasn't until a year later that everything went to hell. But not in the literal sense. James and Lily knew Voldemort was after them, and James started trying to get me to leave. I refused, every time. After going under the Fidelius Charm, James contacted the Watchers' Council, making a deal with them. He'd get me to go to them, if they'd let Dawn stay with me. Eventually, I gave in. If I was just my life on the line, I would never have left. But I couldn't let Dawnie die. I just couldn't. I tried to convince James to bring Lily and Harry with us. God, I wish he'd listened."

"We were kept at the Council for six years, almost prisoners. Then one day they said it was time for me to do my duty. They put a glamour on me to make me appear fifteen, and as Dawn was nine, they said it looked 'more natural'. We were placed with a foster family, Joyce and Hank Summers, and moved to LA. That year was my first on active duty, as my first watcher, Merrick, called it. Merrick was killed that year, and I ended up expelled from my high school after I defeated that year's Big Bad, a Master Vampire known as Lothos. The reason for my expulsion? I kind of, maybe, just possibly, burnt down the gym," Buffy admitted sheepishly.

This left Hermione and Harry, the only ones apart from the two Potter girls to know what a gym was, in shock. Hermione just sat with her mouth hanging open, while Harry quickly dissolved into howls of laughter.

"What's a gym?" Ginny asked, confused.

"It's like a classroom, but bigger. You play sports in it," Dawn clarified.

"You burnt down a classroom?" Remus said, stunned, while Sirius, the rest of the teens and a fair few adults including Dumbledore joined Harry in hysterics.

"It was full of vampires!" Buffy defended herself.

"Go on, tell them the rest," Dawn prompted.

"Okay, I'm getting there! Anyway, then our foster parents got a divorce and we moved to Sunnydale with Joyce. I started my sophomore year at Sunnydale High, and within two days of school I was firm friends with Will and Xand, and we'd averted an apocalypse. Giles, my watcher was the high school librarian, so that became 'Scooby Central', our base of operations…"


	22. Dawnie's Tale Part ONE

Disclaimer - I still don't own anything. Joss Whedon and JK Rowling own Buffy's world and Harry's world respectively.

"… so Dracula got away, all because of his gypsy magicks."

Buffy finished speaking, looking around at the stunned audience. She glanced at her sister, projecting a thought to her.

Dawnie, I think you should do this next bit.

Why? Her sister's mental voice echoed in her head.

Because it's your story. And this way, if there's anything you don't want to mention, you can skip it.

Alright. I'll tell about our fifth Sunnydale year, so long as I can go back a little way. You told all the rest without my parts.

Your parts weren't real, Dawnie. I didn't want to confuse them.

Then you'll learn something, too.

Dawn, what do you…

But the brunette teen had already taken over the narrative, and the Slayer turned her attention to her little sister's tale.

"Well, this is where I take over for a little while," Dawn started, "as here's where my story really comes into play. You see, I'm not real."

Exclamations of confusion, shock and even anger filled the room.

"I mean, I am real, I'm right here. I suppose I'm just not exactly human, I was never born, I was created. Dawn Potter was created three years ago from the Slayer's blood by a bunch of monks to house and protect an immense power, known as the Key. We thought that all memories of me before then were faked, illusions so that I could fit neatly into Buffy's life, so that even she wouldn't know I wasn't really her sister. But they weren't. The monks' spell sent me back in time, changing the Buffy's past so I fit perfectly, leaving nothing to show that I wasn't her real sister. But anyway, you all know that I was taken away to hide in the Council when I was three. I was pretty lonely, the only people I ever saw were a few Watchers and Buffy. I didn't to school, I was taught by Watchers and some of my first lessons were basic safety from vampires or lesser demons. When I was eight, a Watcher called Sarah Thompson decided to teach me magick in secret – a wandless form, a mix of wicca or earth magic combined with my own. I've never understood why she did that – Buffy always insisted that we'd be home soon. Hopefully there'll be something in the Council's files, once we hack into them. By the age of nine, I had managed to float a bed, and was working on summoning the elements. When we left for America, I could freeze a demon in its tracks, create sunlight and defend myself pretty well. From then on I taught myself when Buffy wasn't looking, spells for everyday life and offensive stuff, not just defensive. I was ten. A month after we'd been in LA, I was kidnapped for the first time. A demon cult wanted leverage over the Slayer, and I was the prime choice. I remember being so scared, they were nothing I'd ever seen or heard of, and I could feel the power coming off them. I was helpless, and I hated it. Two days later Buffy found me, the demons had gone out to hunt, leaving one behind to guard me, who'd been quickly dispatched. I was in hospital for a week."

"I don't know how many times I've been held hostage since then, I lost count years ago. I do know that by the time we moved to Sunnydale, I'd worked out the 'Rules' as I called them. Then Angelus, Spike and Drusilla snatched me. They had me for three weeks, the longest I've ever been held for. The Dru had a vision. She said they couldn't keep me any longer, that I had a part to play in the future, I would be needed. So they decided to let me go. But they gave me a present. A necklace, a long golden chain with a pure ruby in the shape of a heart. Said it would help me one day, told me to always keep it close, but not to tell anyone yet. For years I kept it in my special box, a miniature chest which held all my favourite photos and precious things. That night Spike walked me home, promised me I'd see him and the others again and left. That was the only time Buffy didn't save me."

"So life continued like that for two more years. Kidnappings were a regular occurrence, and I was still practising magic. Then it all went to hell. I had reached the time when the monks made little old me. I was in danger, although I didn't know it. A hell-goddess, kicked out her own dimension, was searching for the Key, to use its power, my power to get home. Glorificus, known as Glory, had killed all the monks – they only just managed to complete the ritual to make me and send me back in time. By the time the Scoobies had worked out I was the Key, and I'd stumbled across the secret, she knew that the Key was in Sunnydale and pretty soon she discovered that it was in human form. Her minions captured Spike, thinking he was the Key and he was tortured, but never gave me up. By then so many people were being hurt, I told Spike I must really evil to cause so much pain. He said he knew a thing or two about evil and I wasn't. Then our foster mom died. She had a brain tumour, you see. She just died, left us, left me. And I thought I was alone – Buffy was so busy being the Slayer, the Scoobies all had their lives, and no one was there to see little Dawnie. So I did something stupid, dangerous. I decided to bring her back. Spike found me taking earth from her grave, and agreed to help me. That was always Spike attitude to me – we were friends, and he figured that I'd end up doing exactly what I wanted no matter what he or anyone else said, but I'd be safer with him looking over my shoulder. I did the spell, resurrected her. I'd been warned that it could go wrong, badly wrong, but I did it anyway. Buffy came home just as I finished. We talked, fought a little, then we understood each other. But Joyce was coming. Buffy ran to the door when she knocked, but I realised how wrong what I'd done was. I was messing with Nature. I broke the spell. I still don't know if it worked, not really anyway. But I think it did and that scared me. No one should have that kind of power."

"Glory thought that Tara was the Key next. When she found she was wrong she, she took Tara's mind, her sanity. Tara could see me in my Key form then, all crazy people can, and Giles thinks some animals can too. Then there were two groups after me. Glory and her minions and the Knights of Byzantium, who wanted the Key destroyed. We ran. They followed us. Glory slaughtered the Knights and took me. I was tied to a platform that towered over Sunnydale, built by crazy people. But Glory, she'd told me all about the ritual. She was going to cut me, shallow cuts, to let me blood fall into the 'lock', and the portal would open, tearing down the walls between dimensions. The only way to stop it was to stop the blood flowing. For me to die. But then the Scoobies arrived. Willow stole Tara's mind back, weakening Glory. Then Buffy beat her up with a troll god's hammer. When Glory turned back to her human form, Giles killed her host. But Glory wasn't the only one interested in the Key. Doc, who'd helped me with the resurrection spell, got up onto the tower. Spike followed, having promised Buffy he'd protect me – until the end of the world. I remember being told he'd added 'even if that happens to be tonight'. Typical Spike, that. Anyway, they fought, and Doc knocked Spike off the top. Then Doc cut me, I still have the scars. Buffy got there, and killed Doc. It was too late, just as she freed me, the portal began to open. I knew what I had to do, I had to jump, close it. But Buffy wouldn't let me. I found out later that she'd realised I was made from her blood, it was one and the same. She took my place. She _died_ in my place. How she's still here, that's not my story. What I said about the Key, and the monks spell, I found out since coming back to England. Hopefully, I'll know more once we manage to hack into the Council records. There's another part to my story, but Buffy's got a year to fill in first."


	23. Reactionary or Buffy's Story Part TWO

Disclaimer - Yes, I own both BtVS and HP, as I have 2 seperate identities. Okay, okay, so I'm lying. Buffy and friends belong to the brilliant Joss Whedon, Harry Potter and Co. are the playthings of the fabulous JK Rowling. But you all knew that. I mean, really, do you not think I'd be publishing this stuff properly if I own them? That's what I thought.

Thank-you to my darling ladykikitheevilmastermind, my amazing beta reader, and also the person I sound all my ideas off. She's a star. Love you, Kee. Without you, I'd be bored all the time. (Well, except when I'm at home, on here or watching TV. So just in class and school, then.)

* * *

Silence greeted the end of Dawn's tale. Each person in the room just sat and stared at the young girl who had revealed secrets she'd held close to her heart, telling them everything she knew about her origins, and her life. Molly Weasley was nearly in tears, caused by the sadness and confusion in Dawn's downcast eyes, coupled with the simple way she accepted her past, and the harsh life she'd lived.

She… she's not even real? How can she live like that? Harry thought, his mind reeling. Never mind all she's been through… And I was jealous that she 'escaped' all the pain I've lived – she's had it just as tough as I have… She's just like me.

"Dawnie… why didn't you tell me? About the monks?" Buffy's voice, although soft, cut across the silence.

"I only found that out last night," the brunette teen admitted, eyes lowered. "Giles asked me to go through some of the notes his friend Robson gave him before he died. Apparently, he'd been researching it. I just hope there's more in the encrypted files. I just want to know who - or what - I am."

Again silence reigned in the kitchen, shock covering every face. Remus and Sirius could barely process what they had just learnt – this girl, this girl they'd known as a tiny child wasn't real? She wasn't... but she was all the same. She was still the girl they'd each looked after, played with, loved like their own little sister. No matter how she'd come to be, what she'd been before, she had still been that girl, the girl Sirius had named 'Pixie', due to her almost elfin looks as a baby, and now.

Sensing Dawn's discomfort and the teen shifted in her chair, Buffy cleared her throat, drawing all eyes to her and minds out of their own thoughts, and began to speak once more.

"Well, after that little shocker, I'm afraid you're all stuck listening to me again. Life in Sunnydale went on without, the gang looked after Dawn, fought the demons, kept them thinking Sunnydale was still home to the Slayer. But they found out, and it all went to hell. Figuratively speaking, anyway. The night the demons tried to take over, is the night Willow did the spell. The night she brought me back. See, like Dawn said earlier, for wiccans, like Dawnie and Wills, death can be reversed. It's possible. Merlin, for them anything is possible. Resurrection spells, they take a hell of a lot of power and control. But they're also dark magick. As Dawn said, no one should be able to mess with death – because it will come back to haunt them if they do. As you can see, Willow pulled it off. She gave me my life back. That year was started off so hard, and it took so long to begin to get better. They thought - Will, Tara, Anya and Xan – they thought the portal had left me in Hell. It hadn't. I was in Heaven, they ripped me out of Heaven. And I had to find a way to piece my life back together. I know I made some of my stupidest decisions that year. At the time I hated them for what the did to me, but now, now I don't. They did what they thought was best, and in the end, they were right. Anyway, back to my resurrection…"

The occupants of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place (discounting one house-elf by the name of Kreacher) fell silent once more as they became enthralled by the blonde Potter's story.


	24. Dawnie's Tale Part TWO

"So we smiled, thinking Sunnydale was gone. We thought we'd won, we were free. But then we heard the screams. Willow's spell – we'd never tested it. There hadn't been time. We were at war, and there was no precedent, no advice for that kind of spell. It was temporary. The spell that gave the Potentials' their power, took it away again. Most died before we reached the nearest hospital in LA. Not one survived twenty-four hours after the battle. We closed the Hellmouth, but at a cost."

Both female Potters' eyes were bright shining with tears. Neither could speak, both caught in the horrors of the battle and the deaths that followed. After a minute, Dawn cleared her throat, having pushed back the tears and composed her self to tell of her last chapter in Sunnydale, and the return to England.

"Okay, I promised another chapter of my story, so here it is. The necklace Spike, Dru and Angelus gave me? It stayed almost forgotten in the bottom of the chest. Occasionally, I'd pull it out and stare at the jewel, remembering the time spent with the three master vamps, and trying to recall Dru's exact wording. It never came. After Spike left Sunnydale, I barely looked at it. I was angry, furious even. He'd been my friend, and for years the only one who treated me as an equal, rather than a little girl who needed protection. And then he'd left without even telling us, something he'd promised never to do. When he came back, my trust in him was shattered, to the point I threatened him. 'Hurt my sister… touch her… and you'll wake up on fire.' Anyway, I didn't think about the necklace until we'd reached dead ends in every book we had. I was double checking the research, when I stumbled across a sketch of a necklace that looked so similar to the one hidden upstairs. I took the book upstairs, claiming I need the peace to work, and pulled out my necklace, comparing it to the picture. It was identical. I read on, learning about the stone I'd hidden for years. It was called the Pendant of Aurelius, a necklace that could only be worn by a mortal, chosen by all surviving masters and judged by them to be worthy of carrying the powers it contained. Also known as the Bloodstone, it's bearer, me, is the Bloodheart, a mortal. When wearing the stone, they can summon any master of the line to them, communicate with any Aurelian master, and will be avoided by any vampire or demons with the sense not to cross the Order of Aurelius. Oh, and the Pendant will let any master of the line know if the wearer is close to death."

"Anyway, after Sunnydale. We stayed a few nights with Angel and company in LA, before deciding to head for London, to rebuild the Watcher's Council. Until a few days ago, that amounted to buying new premises, large enough for all the Council business, the library and various training or practice rooms, and for the Scooby gang to live in – we're a family, after all. Then we had the meeting, setting out our aims for the next few weeks. That was then Buffy and I decided to write to Professor Dumbledore, and we arrived here a few days later."

Their stories finished, the two Potter girls smiled. Just as Buffy turned to Harry to apologise once more for their absence, he smiled, the first the sisters had seen from him.

"Don't say you're sorry for not being here. You couldn't have come any sooner, and the way I see it, the entire world's a lot better off after you stayed in  
Sunnydale. I just hope you will be around more now."

"Definitely," Buffy grinned.

"If I were you, I'd prepare to wish we never came back. I mean, the entire gang wants to meet you, and that's chaos waiting to happen," Dawn smirked to herself.

"And once they've met you, your sanity will suffer," Buffy added with a wry smile.

Just then, both Buffy and Dawn's pagers beeped.

"Council meeting," Buffy sighed.

"See you later," Dawn said, as both girls stood to leave.


	25. Department

The Slayer and the Key entered the meeting room together, Buffy managing to snag a seat between Xander and Willow, Dawn taking the place between the elder Wiccan and Faith. As soon as they had sat down, the door opened again, and Giles walked in. The meeting was starting.

"Ah, good, you're all here," the Watcher said as he sorted through his papers, "we can start. So, last time we met, we discussed our aims for the short term. Today, we need to decide how to run the Council, as well as make our long term plans. I had thought that if each of us here takes a different aspect of the business as their 'department', and then as we gather more employees, they can separate into departments and eventually each head up a team with specific talents, comprised of both Watchers and Slayers, so field teams could be arranged to have a mix of expertise easily. Any other ideas?"

All around the table shook their heads, stunned by the amount of thought the man had put into their future.

"In that case, shall we suggest different departments?"

"Well, I could deal with Wiccan work, specialise in keeping a balance of magick, monitoring, but also the ability to use it," Willow offered. Giles made a note on a sheet of acetate, placing it on a projector, so all could see the words 'Willow – Wicca'.

Surprisingly, Faith was next to speak: "There's the actual fighting side of things, you know, hand-to-hand, weapons teaching any new potentials who come in. We need both potentials and Watchers to know how to fight, and also people who are experts in different techniques. Maybe B and I could take that, balance each other out?"

"Yeah, that'd work, we'd keep each other focussed, be a good team. We could handle patrols as well, the Slaying side of things," Buffy said, causing a rare smile on the brunette Slayer's face.

'Buffy & Faith – Slaying.'

"I could take research?" Andrew suggested hesitantly, "Run the library and all?"

'Andrew – Research.'

"Maybe I could deal with actual fieldwork, judging your area, locating Hellmouths, and transportation too. I mean, I still remember all the army stuff from Hallowe'en, so I can give you the best positions of an area in seconds, and fly helicopters or jets."

'Xander – Strategy."

"And Dawn, what about you?" Giles asked after a pause.

"Me? I, er, I wasn't sure I'd be…" the brunette Potter trailed off, unsure.

"Well, sure Dawnie," Buffy answered, "why not you? You earned it."

" Yeah, you proved you could be a Scooby. No backing out now," the redhead smiled.

Her confidence back, Dawn began to speak.

"Well, I guess I work best with a combination of things. I mean, Will works in magick, Buffy and Faith in physical stuff – even though Buffy could use magic, she never has. Me, I use both, mixing spells – both pure Wiccan and the original form I was taught, with physical fighting. So, maybe I could take that, and use the wand magic I'll learn once I get a wand?"

'Dawn – Combined Force.'

"Perhaps you could also serve as our link to the Ministry of Magic and the Order of the Pheonix, Dawn?" Giles added.

"Me? But… wouldn't Buffy be better?"

"Nah, I could never sit through meetings, let alone make a point with words alone. It's not my way. You've always been able to get a point across, and convince people too. You know the way we work, you know the facts – you wouldn't have to run to check a book like I would. Plus, I can't guarantee I'll be able to make a meeting because of Slaying. You are of age in the Wizarding world, and you're Pureblood. To get anywhere in the Ministry, you have to be Pureblood. Biased, the lot of them."

"Well, okay, I'll do it."

"Excellent. Now that's sorted, we can start to get this place up and running. You may each choose a 'command-centre', there are plenty of large rooms you can use. As we expand, we can add an office for you each, and desks for employees. You will each have a budget of ten thousand pounds to set up your departments, Dawn, you should set up a Council account in the Wizarding world as well. I have invited some of the original Council families here, all of whom have people who are nearing the age in which they will join us, in a week, so you must have something to show for your department. Oh, you will each have a Council card, denoting you as a member of the Council, stating your name and job, so we need to get photographs taken for those as well. As for salaries, I will be comparing similar positions in other establishments to work them out – and there will be no arguments. You will all be paid for your work here, into a Council based account, with a credit card to match. On another topic, Buffy, Dawn, I believe you have met Harry at last?"

"Yes, we just finished story time when our pagers went," Dawn answered.

"Why don't we invite him and your friends here? So we can meet them all, old meets new?"

"Sure, " Buffy smiled, "we wanted one life, after all."

"The day after the Council families visit? Then we can give a decent tour of our operation, and introduce Dawn as our delegate, as Professor Dumbledore requested one?"

"I'll sort it," Buffy replied.

"Well then. Meeting adjourned," Giles announced, before adding, "Dawn, could you stay a moment?"

The rest of the gang filed out, leaving Dawn and Giles alone in the meeting room.

"Dawn, good communication with the Wizarding world is key, at this point. With Dumbledore's tale about Voldemort, you must make sure the Council knows both the Ministry's and the Order's movements. Neither organisation will be overjoyed by your appointment, I will admit, so you must be prepared to be watched closely, and to prove yourself as a worthy ambassador. Also, you must try and promote the Council whilst away at Hogwarts, we do need new employees. I understand this will be an uphill struggle, but you really are our best candidate."

"I understand. Buffy and I are going to go to the Ministry tomorrow and announce our return, so I can get accounts open then, and start learning wand magic. I won't let you down."

"Off you go, then. I'm sure you have lots to do."


	26. Return

Two witches walked into the Ministry of Magic at ten o'clock the next morning. Both were smiling to themselves, happy to be there at last, and also aware they would create a media whirlwind just by setting foot in the magical world once more. These two witches were Elizabeth and Dawn Potter, only surviving relatives of Harry Potter, well in the magical world at least. As luck would have it, the Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge, was crossing the entrance hall at the same time as the Potters were requesting a meeting with him. Of course, the secretary called him over, on the grounds two witches were claiming to be the missing Potters.

"Minister, these two ladies claim to be Elizabeth and Dawn Potter," the secretary said quietly.

"We don't claim to be, we are," Buffy interjected, rapidly becoming annoyed.

"Well, a simple bloodline exam will clear this up, follow me, ladies," the Minister replied smoothly. He then led the way into the nearest empty elevator, and the three travelled up to his office.

As the Minister invited both Potters to sit, a Gringotts goblin appeared in the room, to administer the test. Buffy and Dawn were both asked to let a little of their blood run into a separate dish each, and after a quick mental assurance to the Key, they did so, using a provided knife each – although they each had at least two hidden on their persons.

"_Sanguine revealus_," the goblin intoned, pouring both samples onto separate rolls of parchment.

The poured blood ran over the parchment like ink, drawing lines and writing words faster than any hand could. A minute later, the goblin announced:

"They are finished."

All the occupants of the office bent down to see the parchments, one which now shone family trees for both witches, their own names in larger writing towards the bottom.

"Miss Potter, Miss Potter, I hope to see you in Gringotts soon."

With those parting words, the goblin disappeared.

"I can barely believe it, Elizabeth and Dawn Potter, returned to our world!" the Minister exclaimed, "May I be the first to say, welcome back! However I must know, why did you leave? And where have you been?"

"To answer your second question, America. To answer your first, when my sister was born, my brother and I swore to protect her from the War, no matter what. Less than two months before he was killed, he forced me to take Dawn and run. If only he'd listened when I tried to get him to bring Lily and Harry with us," Buffy sighed, glossing over the finer points of the story.

"Understandable, my dear, understandable," Fudge replied, "Now, is there anything I can do to help you with your return?"

"Well, we have already been in contact with Harry, and Professor Dumbledore – "

Fudge flinched.

" – so we have no problems with that. Dawn will need to take her O.W.L.'s and end of sixth examinations this summer, so she can complete her seventh year at Hogwarts, she's a very fast learner, and knows the theory already, just needs the practical. And we shall be announcing our return to the media, a Ministry statements could be asked for – you will deal with that, of course? Oh, yes, Harry. After speaking with him, we will most probably wish to take custody of our nephew, integrate him into the wizarding world properly, he is the last male heir of the Potter line," Buffy finished. Although her speech may seem rude to a casual listener, any witch or wizard would tell you that this was the only way to get things done by the Ministry of Magic.

"Of course, of course," the Minister blustered.

"Good day," the Potters said, leaving the office.

Fudge just sighed, thinking 'Those two could be troublesome…'


	27. Snapshot

Five doors opened into five large rooms, six people entered

Five doors opened into five large rooms, six people entered. One by one, each room was examined by the entrant, or entrants, and was claimed.

A sketch of a floor plan was pinned up on a wall, a list of furniture to be ordered slowly being complied.

Shelves began to cover one room, circling the walls from floor to high ceiling.

Training mats piled in a corner, gym equipment and weapons chests began to line two walls.

A large cupboard was quickly stocked with candles, herbs and potions.

A diary lay open on a newly bought desk, detailing several visits passed and yet to be made to various magical and non-magical facilities.

An older man sat at an antique desk, making telephone call after telephone call.

Two young women, one fair, one dark, sparred repeatedly, joking and laughing as they did so.

A young dark haired man tried persistently to convince an older man to buy a mixture of cars, motorbikes, helicopters and a few jets. He eventually won, the older man rubbing his glasses with a handkerchief.

A blonde young man accepted numerous boxes being delivered. Opening them in the shelved room, he smiled as he began to lift large books out carefully.

A red-haired woman spoke animatedly to a circle of women, all of whom held that special air of Wiccan power.

A brunette teen sat with four younger teenagers, two male and two female, laughing at the antics of a pair of red-haired twins.

Seven Scoobies collapsed in their shared lounge, all exhausted. It had been a long week – longer because of the meetings today to gain staff – but they smiled. Tomorrow two worlds would collide.


	28. Collision

The Scoobies were all assembled in the entrance hall of the New Council of Watchers, waiting for their guests to arrive

The Scoobies were all assembled in the entrance hall of the New Council of Watchers, waiting for their guests to arrive. Dawn and Faith were seated on the first few steps of the sweeping stairs, Xander leaning on the banister opposite them, the two girls laughing at his jokes. Willow and Buffy were over by the desk, Willow sitting cross-legged on the top, Buffy swinging her legs from her perch on the side. Giles and Andrew stood at the opposite side of the hall, discussing the latest shipment of books to be added to the already extensive library.

A faint 'popping' sound caused all seven to look up, swiftly finding the newcomers, all huddled round. As they turned, the Scoobies gathered together, Giles saying:

"Welcome to the New Council of Watchers. My name is Rupert Giles, although the children – " he glanced around at the six others fondly " – tend to just call me Giles. This is Willow Rosenburg, Xander Harris, Andrew Wells and Faith Lehane. Of course, you all know Buffy and Dawn."

"A pleasure to see you again, Rupert," Dumbledore began, "May I present…."

The long process of introductions complete, the Scoobies had begun their tour. Buffy and Faith had immediately led the group down to the lower levels of the building, around the number of training rooms they had set up, before Giles took over to show the 'official' areas, meeting rooms and such. Hermione had to be practically dragged out of the library Andrew showed, Ron had a similar reaction to Xander's tactical base. Willow spent her time explaining Wiccan magicks to the group, all fascinated by the existence of a different form. Finally, it was Dawn's turn.

"Last, but not least, Dawn's section," Willow finished, turning to the girl.

"Wait, your section?" Remus repeated, looking quizzically at the seventeen year old Potter.

"Hey, I was surprised too," she replied, before Faith responded:

"She proved she knew what she was doing, so, yeah. D's one of us."

"Anyway," Dawn cut in, realising more than a few people had very strong opinions on the matter, "I deal with something we call Combined Force. My job is to mix magic of both kinds with the more hands-on stuff, so anyone gifted with either magic can work with all they know."

"Dawn also serves as our ambassador to the Ministry of Magic," Giles added, looking over to Buffy as he finished, "because of - prejudice, was it? – the Ministry wouldn't accept myself or Willow, the usual ambassadors, we settled on Dawn as our link to the magical world."

"Why not Buffy?" Sirius asked, frowning.

"'Cause I'm way to impulsive and violent," Buffy replied happily, before adding, "and as I said to Dawn, she knows the business, the facts, and doesn't have as much chance of being injured or exhausted post-Slaying. We don't let Dawnie patrol alone – much. Not on the most dangerous routes, anyway."

"Somehow, that isn't as reassuring as it could be, princess. I would have hoped you didn't let Dawn patrol at all," Remus replied wryly.

"Hey, D's a Scooby. One of us. That means the good _and_ bad. So she has to research too, which is the bad." Faith returned.

"Well, the research-party doughnuts help even the score a little," Xander put in, grinning slightly.

"Traditions should always be respected," Dawn quipped, before continuing, "so, yes, I patrol. But I'm totally careful!"

"Oh yeah? So no more Dawn's-in-trouble-it-must-be-Tuesday?" Willow grinned, poking Dawn in the ribs.

"Hey, most of that was completely coincidental and not my fault. And I've matured since then."

"You've matured since last week?" Buffy asked, raising one golden eyebrow.

"Yeah, 'cause I planned that one, Buffy. I just knew that Tube station was going to be attacked, and made sure I'd be there. Really." Dawn drawled sarcastically.

"Touché."

"Anyway," Giles said, mock-glaring at the bickering siblings, "for the same reasons Buffy gave, we have selected Dawn as the Council's liaison with the Order of the Pheonix."

_Five, four, three…_ all seven Scoobies mentally grinned in response to Willow's projected countdown to the expected outrage. _Two, one… here it comes…_

"What?"

"You can't be serious!"

"She's seventeen!"

" - a child as a member!"

" - still in school!"

" - If she's joining, so are we!"

"This is ridiculous!"

" - barely of age - "

" – too dangerous – "

The loud protests continued, the speakers repeating themselves until they felt their points had been made. A small group stood off to one side, not speaking, merely smiling blandly towards the ranting group. This group contained all of the Scooby gang (of course), Professor Dumbledore, Remus, Sirius, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. (The twins were busy protesting that they wanted to join too.)

As the noise level dropped, this group started their, rather more civilised, discussion.

"Well, I can't say we didn't expect that," Giles said ruefully, gesturing towards the source of noise.

"A controversial appointment, to say the least. Yet, I believe one well made," Dumbledore replied, gazing through his half-moon glasses at the young girl.

"Professor, she's seventeen, the Order – " Sirius began, before being cut off.

"Siri, at Dawn's age we were in the Order as soon as we left Hogwarts, and had less idea of the danger we would be in," Buffy cut across softly.

"Dawn survived life on a Hellmouth, and for all our jokes, she knows what she's doing." Willow put in.

"Just take a look at her training history. Three Slayers, Buffy, Kendra and Faith have all taught her to fight, as well as Angel and Spike, both Master Vampires. Add on the lore from Giles and, well, Spike, Wiccan magicks from Tara and Willow, the magic she learnt as a kid, and the wand magic as soon as she gets a wand – tomorrow, you're going right?" Xander finished, glancing to the brunette Potter, remembering a conversation of the past, _not special, extraordinary._

The four younger teenagers looked at Dawn in shock, her training instructors had never been spelt out before.

"As leader of the Order of the Pheonix, I accept your choice," Dumbledore said formally, before smiling at the other group, now in shocked silence, eyes twinkling mischievously, adding, "She will be inducted before our next meeting."


	29. Alcohol & Axes

AN:

Hi guys - guess who's back! I apologise profusely for being away so long - I've actually realised today I've been holding about five chapters prisoner - and one I wrote on holiday is waiting to be typed. OOPS. Thank you all SO much for all the lovely favourites/alert messages I've been receiving - each and every one prompts a happy dance!

Just as a warning (trying to prevent heart attacks here...) the next chapter breaks my normal type completely. IT'S LOOOOOONG. As in 11 pages in Word, over 3000 words LOOOOONG. I nearly killed myself with shock, let alone my fabulous beta reader, the amazing KikiLeigh. Any Veronica Mars fans reading - check out her story Angela Kane.

Also (more heart attack warnings) I should be updating in the next couple of days. Weird, I know.

Please send me reviews - I'd love to know where you think I should take this, or just what you think. Even flames get happy dances - controversy is fun. :)

Wills xXx

PS: DISCLAIMER AS CHAPTER ONE. AS EVER.

* * *

The day passed, time flowing languidly, as for once there was no rush, no flurry of action, merely conversation, and learning each others' worlds. Both expected and unusual groups formed: Willow, Snape, McGonagall and Flitwick comparing their magic forms; Xander quickly becoming a hit with both the surviving Marauders and Fred and George. Giles spending his time conversing with Dumbledore; Andrew sitting with Bill and Arthur Weasley discussing everything from magical lore to light bulbs and back again. Dawn flitting from group to group, rapidly proving her worth in knowledge and experience, Faith and Tonks sharing stories of the past, Buffy just relaxing in the company of old friends. It was a day of memories, to be remembered. The day two worlds collided, and became one.

Although, it must be said, there were several attempts to dissuade Dumbledore from accepting the youngest Scooby's appointment, none of which were successful.

It was later, as afternoon fell into evening, that those who were not residents of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, began to leave, some with promises to return for longer talks and more understanding. Finally, only Sirius, Remus, and the younger five remained (Arthur and Molly having agreed, with Dumbledore's approval, to allow them to stay the night – they needed some time away from Headquarters, and where could be safer than with Harry's own family?). As the sun neared setting, Faith sighed, announcing those who had patrol had better get ready. Turning to check the list pinned to wall, she said:

"Okay, Giles and B: East route; Red, Andy and me, West side. Xan and D, it's your night off."

The latter pair grinned, relaxing. The rest left the room quickly, some scowling in mock-annoyance.

"Finally, some down-time!" Xander sighed, slumping back in his chair.

"One night off a week is so not enough," Dawn agreed, wriggling down to lie across the newly vacated sofa.

"Hey, when you go off to boarding school, you won't have _any_ nights off. And homework. And Council work. The list goes on and on…" Xander replied lazily. Dawn just threw a cushion at him, mumbling:

"Yeah, yeah, no need to depress me." But she was grinning. Truth be told, Dawn was actually excited about going to Hogwarts. The combination of her sister's stories, the idea of formally learning magic, reconnecting with the world she was born to and the sheer FREEDOM she would have had her even looking forward to taking her OWLs and sixth-year exams.

"What do you mean, no nights off at Hogwarts?" Hermione asked, curious, "Will you be patrolling there?"

"Buffy's old route?" Sirius asked, sitting forward.

"Yeah, Hogsmeade and the Forbidden Forest."

"You're allowed in the Forest?" Fred – or possibly George, Dawn hadn't had chance to switch to Aura-Sight to tell them apart yet, said, impressed.

"Yeah, to kill off the nasties. And no, you can't come with me." Dawn replied quickly, Sirius and Remus beginning to laugh at the memory of Shadowfly saying almost the exact same words to them, years ago.

The distant ring of the doorbell caused Xander to swing up from his chair, and wander out of the room, leaving Dawn arguing with the Weasley twins over patrolling. The argument slowly gave way to good-natured bickering, when a loud thump drew everyone's attention to the doorway.

Slumped against the door was a teenage boy, his long brown hair falling over his tanned face, eyes closed. Slung carelessly over one shoulder was a large sports bag. Behind him, Xander sighed, muttering, "Poor kid."

Dawn was on her feet in the blink of an eye, laying a hand on the boy's arm, speaking softly into his ear, leading him gently over to the couch she had been lying on. She took the bag from him, wincing a little at the weight, before asking him:

"Con, just _how_ drunk are you?"

"Only a little," the boy mumbled back, swaying on his feet.

"Sure, and the Leaning Tower of Pisa is just a _little _wonky…" Dawn replied under her breath.

"Fix me?" 'Con' said, looking up for the first time, gazing at the brunette Potter through glazed blue eyes. Her face softened, moving to sit cross-legged at one end of the couch, gesturing for him to lie along it. As he dropped his head into her lap, she smiled, saying:

"One day I'm just going to let you deal with the hangover, you know."

She raised her hand to gently rest on either side of his head, both pairs of eyes shutting as she began to whisper words, concentrating. His face eased and relaxed, and before he could open his eyes, she whispered:

"Show me why you did this…"

After a moment, both opened their eyes, him sitting up and turning to lean against the other end of the couch, her stretching her legs out.

"Much better," he sighed, before adding, "Aren't you going to introduce me?"

"Everyone, this is Connor Angel, my best friend. Con, this is everyone."

"Useful, Dawnie, really useful," Connor drawled out, one eyebrow raised, "What am I supposed to do, call them all 'Hey, you!'?"

"Okay, okay," Dawn laughed, pointing each person out as she gave their name, "This is Sirius and Remus, Buffy's old friends, two of the Marauders. That's Harry, my two-years-younger-than-me nephew – I know, it's weird – Ron and Hermione, his best friends. Ginny, Ron's younger sister, and lastly Fred and George, two of Ron's older brothers. And don't even bother asking me which one's which, as I haven't had chance to figure it out yet – no time for Aura-Sight."

"Wait," Hermione murmured, "Connor Angel? Doesn't that make you Angel's son?"

"Yeah," Connor replied slowly, slightly confused.

"How can that be? Vampires can't have children."

"Long story," Connor answered, "Starting with a prophecy, passing a hell dimension, kidnapping, various attempts at killing, and ending with now. Not one I want to go into at the moment."

Dawn sent a sympathetic look in the boy's direction, he'd already revealed why he was here all of a sudden to her through the mental connection she'd used to clear the alcohol from his system. And you'd better believe she would be dealing with that in the morning, but right now Connor needed her here.

"So, anyway," Xander said, breaking the momentary silence, "we should set you guys up in rooms."

"Xan, are you sick?" Dawn asked, standing and feeling his forehead.

"What? No, I'm fine," the one-eyed Scooby replied, frowning.

"It's just you're being all responsible…" Dawn responded, grinning evilly.

Picking up on her thought, Connor matched her grin, adding:

"It's completely terrifying. Damn sight scarier than anything Quor'toth had to offer."

"My world is caving in – Xan's been infected by responsibility!" Dawn wailed, mock-swooning, Connor quickly grabbing her to him, still seated on the couch, his grin widening as he proclaimed:

"I have a prisoner!"

"Funny, you two. Really," Xander shot back sarcastically.

"Alexander LaVelle Harris, don't you take that tone with me!" Dawn replied, eyes widening comically as she wagged her finger at him, shifting slightly in Connor's lap. Xander began to glare, clearly annoyed at the use of the dreaded middle name.

"Connor, hold her still," Xander almost-growled, advancing on the teenaged pair.

"Can do," the boy replied cheerily, before adjusting his grip on Dawn, wrapping his arms around her stomach to hold her securely against his body.

"Connor!" Dawn squealed, wriggling to get free, aware of what would happen next if she didn't escape.

"Not going to happen, Dawnie," her friend answered, switching to a sing song voice to say: "You're gonna get it!"

Xander dropped down next to the pair, his fingers swiftly tickling Dawn's ribs, Connor joining in. The two kept tickling her, much to the amusement of the eight witches and wizards, until she finally cried:

"Okay, okay! I give! I apologise for using the middle name!"

Instantly, both sets of fingers halted, Xander bouncing back to his feet. Connor on the other hand, kept hold of Dawn, declaring that she was still his prisoner. Dawn just smiled innocently, before reaching up to pinch and twist his earlobe, effectively forcing him to let go of her. Now released, she bounced up to her feet, before spinning round to poke her tongue out at her best friend.

"You didn't have to use your nails, Dawnie," Connor scowled, rubbing his ear.

"Thought you did count anything as a wound unless you passed out, Destruct-o-boy?" Dawn mocked, smirking down at him.

Connor just growled softly, before jumping up of the couch and stretching.

"Weren't you two gonna give us rooms?" he said, raising an eyebrow at the two brunette Scoobies.

"Oh yeah..."

"Well, if you'd all follow me," Xander said, ushering the group out towards the door.

* * *

"So, those are our rooms, and this is the guest hall. Pick a room, any room," Xander finished, waving an arm at the long corridor, "oh, Connor, there's a room across from Dawnie's for you, as you'll be living here. Dawn, think you can move some sheets and towels up, double quick?"

"Xan, that power isn't completely under control, I could just as easily bring the entire weapon stock up here!"

"Practice makes perfect," Connor put in, urging her forward, "and the weapons cabinets are much to far away."

Dawn scowled at his flippancy, before closing her eyes and concentrating, hard. A thin layer of shimmering silver-green swirled around her body, her eyes shot open, tiny lines of the same shade pierced her otherwise oceanic irises, the physical beginning signs of her power in use. The soft click of opening doors sounded through the silent hall, and steadily sheets and towels came unaided towards the group.

As Connor opened his mouth to comment, a wicked-looking axe shot down the corridor and embedded itself in the wall, just millimetres from his right ear. He gulped, pulling the weapon out of the plaster, and inspecting the razor sharp blade.

"Well, at least your aim's good."


	30. His Sunrise

"You! You arrogant, idiotic, complete and utter BASTARD!"

The ex-Angel Investigations team, now the ruling class of Wolfram & Hart's LA Branch, all spun round to the newly flung open door of Angel's office. Eyes widened in shock as they took in what could only be an incredibly incensed Scooby.

"Now, Dawnie…" Angel began, unsure of who she was angry with, and hoping against hope it wasn't him – though he wasn't sure what he – or any of the others had done… Except for concealing Spike's return… It couldn't be that, right? The bleach blonde vampire was nowhere in sight, and he couldn't even think how she might have found out…

"Don't you 'Now, Dawnie' me, you asshole!"

"What ever this is about…"

"What ever this is about? What the hell do you THINK this is about, you jerk!"

"I'm sure it's just a misunderstanding…" Angel had now unconsciously begun to back away from the irate teenager, although he still tried vainly to pacify her, he was quickly calculating the nearest escape route, in case she started flinging fireballs.

"A misunderstanding? Oh no, no chance, no way, no how is this a _misunderstanding._ This is you being an IGNORANT, CONCIETED SON OF A BITCH!"

……………………………………………………………………………..

TEN MINS EARLIER, NEW WATCHER'S HQ, LONDON, ENGLAND.

"..So I came here." Connor finished, slumping sideways into Dawn.

The Scooby Gang, along with Connor, were sat in the council chamber, listening to the reason the Destroyer had turned up on their doorstep late last night, drunk and alone. Willow's eyes were bright with tears, her pale face stunned. Buffy was gradually getting angrier, her Slayer's instincts urging her to go kill Angel. Faith's face showed confusion mingled with empathy, unable to understand how Angel could do this to his son. Giles's glasses were securely in his hands, furiously being wiped, as the Watcher struggled to comprehend to magicks involved in such a deception. Andrew, on the other hand, was biting back geek references out of respect for the super-powered teen, while trying desperately to stop himself from crying. But Dawn, who now sat with both arms wrapped tightly around her friend, allowing him to draw strength and comfort from her, her eyes shone with pure fury, and a plan.

After a moment passed, and Connor had pulled himself together enough to pull away from her – despite their close friendship, his years in Quor'toth could not be erased, and his training never to show weakness had not been removed, or not completely – Dawn cleared her throat.

"I'm going to LA," she started, waving off the protests before continuing, "I'm going to LA, and I'm going to kick Angel's butt. He has no right to do this, and I'm going to make damn sure he knows that. I'm using the Pendant to get me there, on Angel's signature, and Connor's to get back. I'm going to LA."

"Dawn… Let me, I'll – "

"No, Buffy. Connor's my best friend, it's my job. I'm going to deal with this, not you. This isn't Slayer-business, this is best friend stuff."

"Alright, Dawn. If you leave now, it should be ten at night – Angel's team tend to work that late. Willow, is there any way we can get this confrontation up on screen here?"

"Give me five minutes and a computer. Why?"

"I believe Connor may wish to see this. And besides," Giles added, a Ripper-esque smile appearing, "I want to see this."

"Can I go get the others?" Buffy questioned, half-looking at Giles, half at Connor.

"I don't mind," Connor shrugged, Giles nodding after he spoke.

"Maybe I should get some popcorn…" Xander mused, following Dawn and Buffy out.

……………………………………………………………………………..

FIVE MINUTES LATER, STILL NWC HQ, STILL LONDON, STILL ENGLAND

In the Scooby Lounge, all the sofas, couches, loveseats and armchairs (and that was a lot) had been hastily moved to face the large plasma TV. Bowls of popcorn rested precariously on arms, and hands dipped in, robbing the bowls of their contents. Connor sat in the centre, with the six teenage witches and wizards, filling them in on his story. Around him, sat the Scoobies (minus one), Sirius and Remus, along with Moody, Tonks and Kingsley, who'd arrived to check on the younger guests. The miracle child heard the doors open behind him and broke off his tale, twisting around to look towards his best friend.

Dawn moved through the room with steel in her eyes, her stride long and purposeful. Her attire now more suitable for the Californian summer, a purple suede skirt in place of jeans, her jacket gone, leaving her in a black halter-neck under a purple lace tank. Her boots were gone, switched for purple kitten heeled sandals. But despite the change in clothes, Dawn was as well armed as ever. Two twin long knives were tucked in the hidden belt she wore, the handles just beneath the waistband of her skirt. A stake rested in the small of her back, and her swept-up hair was pinned back by custom-made chopsticks, both with a secret blade within – slim but just as deadly as her favoured daggers. Not to mention, of course, the potent magicks within her veins.

She halted before Connor, crouching down in front of him, opening her mouth to speak. Impulsively, the boy pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her slim frame, holding her tightly to his chest. Before she could react, he whispered:

"Thanks for doing this, Sunrise."

A faint smile of remembrance touching her lips, she whispered back:

"What are guardian angels for?"

A grin tugging at his own lips, Connor released her, saying, "Be careful, yeah?"

"Always," came the soft reply.

……………………………………………………………………………..

ONE YEAR EARLIER, SOMEWHERE IN LA'S EXTENSIVE WAREHOUSE DISTRICT (CONNOR'S MEMORY)

Connor was wishing he hadn't done this. Wishing he hadn't snuck out to get his share of the fighting. Wishing he'd thought to wait for someone else to go with him.

After all, 50 against 1 did not give the Destroyer a good chance of survival.

Connor was almost wishing that the Slayer and her friends had already arrived. Almost. Of course, that would mean the presence of the completely annoying, know-it-all, holier-than-thou, prissy, so-adored, 'I-only-want-to-help-you', pain in his butt. Otherwise known as Dawn Summers. Last summer, she'd driven Connor mad with her sweet, innocent little-girl smile which had all the adults fawning over her – sure, she'd lost her family, and Connor felt for her, but soon he found that Dawn Summers was no innocent darling. She could argue with the best of them, and seemed to take pleasure in tormenting him. Not that he was any better, he realised. But still, she didn't have to be so, so… Connor didn't even know. And then she'd figured it out. Guessed what had happened to Angel, guessed how it had happened, guessed who was responsible. He'd half expected her to go running to Willow and Tara, the two witches who'd brought her to LA – but what she'd done was worse. She'd come into his room one night, and told him straight up what she thought, and dared him to deny it. And all the while, she smiled that annoying smile at him. Then she'd had the nerve to say she wasn't going to tell on him – because she thought HE would. No chance.

Then again, not spilling on account of wanting to spite her hadn't got him very far either, Connor thought. That had taken the life he'd gotten away, and all he could think of as he walked away from the Hyperion was her smug face.

What made it all worse, was that he'd been attracted to her. The sound of her voice, of her laugh, had made him shiver, and the flashes of creamy skin exposed by those skirts or tiny tops she'd worn had sent his mind into overdrive. Half the time he'd wanted to hit her, and half the time he'd wanted to do… less appropriate things to her. He'd moved past that, of course, it had ended months back. He hoped.

He was dreading seeing her. Dreading watching her find out about all his mistakes, everything he'd done wrong. Dreading finding out that he still wanted her, even after all that had happened with Cordy. Why the hell did she have to come back this summer?

Connor ripped his thoughts away from his brunette tormentor and back onto the fight at hand. He'd taken out over half already, but that still left twenty pissed off demons trying to kill him. And though he'd never admit it, the Destroyer was tiring. He'd been patrolling for two hours before he'd come across the first of these things – seemingly alone, until all the rest came pouring out of the warehouses to either side. This did not look good, Connor thought to himself, pulling on his energy reserves to keep fighting.

Moments later he was flung against the wall, and slid to the ground, now too dazed to stand. Just as he was desperately trying to see a way out of this alive, he noticed the demons were still dying, even though he knew he'd been their sole opponent. He caught flashes of shining metal, and snatches of speech, but in his dazed state couldn't place the voice, or even tell which gender it belonged to. There had only been ten demons left when he fell, Connor knew, so the chances were he was going to live to get killed by his dad, provided this new player could actually fight.

The final two demons falling to the floor, both with fatal wounds, Connor began to pull himself up, before he felt soft, small hands helping him, pushing his hair back from his face, bright eyes flicking over his body in search of injuries. As the newcomer began to lead the still-dazed Destroyer over towards the alley's end, he said the words he would always regret:

"Are you my guardian angel or something?"

It was the laugh that answered his questions; as that laugh rang around him, he knew it was her. In that second, he knew who'd saved him – though he'd never admit it. And in that same moment, Connor Angel knew he was not over Dawn Summers.

She'd smiled at him then, that soft smile he hated and loved, saying to him:

"I guess you could say that, though I'm not really an angel. Just me."

He'd leaned against the wall, his senses returning to him at last, biting back a groan as he realised what he'd said to her. Looking over at her, her lithe form resting against the opposite wall, wiping the twin daggers in her hands free of demon blood, tucking them away into her belt, he took in the changes a year had made to her. She was still as slim as the first time they'd met, but the then only beginning curves had filled in a little more, making her less skinny now, more slender. Her chocolate hair still flowed down over her shoulders, some of it falling forward over her shoulders. Her blue eyes seemed bigger, if that was possible. Damn, she looked good. Her patrol clothes only added to the effect, the snugly fitting dark blue jeans, riding low on her hips, the low cut turquoise t-shirt now torn at the bottom – unknowingly exposing just enough skin to send Connor's mind straight into the gutter.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer." Her voice jolted him away from his less-than-PG thoughts, forcing him to fight down a blush at the thought of just what he'd been imagining a second before. He'd pulled himself together as fast as he could, to drawl out his reply:

"So what brings you down here?"

"Slumming," she'd shot back, before frowning slightly to herself and adding, "Seriously though, I don't know. Just had to get out of the hotel, so I went for a walk. Ended up here."

"I guess you couldn't resist seeing me, huh?" he'd said, a smirk tugging at his mouth.

"Yeah, 'cause you know, I'm so in love with you." Oh, he wished that was true.

Her voice had altered then, her tone less flippant, as she said:

"We'd better get back. I left the hotel more than an hour ago, and if we don't wanna get caught, experience says be back at sun-up," she'd looked him over again, "You okay now?"

"Yeah," he'd answered, pushing away from the wall, "let's go."

They'd walked in silence, him leading her through the back ways, so as to avoid being seen. After around half an hour, he'd spotted her shivering slightly – apparently she hadn't thought about a jacket. He'd grabbed her arm to get her to stop, and before she could speak, slipped his own jacket off and wrapped it securely around her shoulders. She'd smiled slightly in thanks, a faint blush colouring her pale cheeks. Then she gasped slightly, a little "Oh!" of shock. Seemingly without thinking, her hand had come up to trace beneath one of the many fresh cuts now visible on his chest and stomach – evidently she hadn't seen most of the damage due to his jacket. The gentle touch had brought goosebumps out all over him, but she hadn't seemed to notice.

"I gotta get you back," she'd whispered, her eyes round with shock. As she'd turned to go, he'd called her back:

"Dawn! They can't know about this."

"I know, now come on!"

When they'd reached the old hotel, true to her word, she'd slipped silently after him through the ground floor window he'd used to get out. He'd led her quickly upstairs, pausing momentarily as he heard to main doors unlock and open, the half hour before day began telling him that was Angel returning from patrol. She'd pulled him into her room, then. Told him to sit down, as she'd moved quickly to her bag, lifting out a first aid kit. Backing away, he'd tried to argue with her, before she'd finally hissed:

"Connor, if you don't want anyone to know you're gonna have to let me patch you up!"

He'd sighed and given in, sitting back down on her bed as she pulled out her things. As she turned to face him, he'd noticed the pretty blush on her cheeks once again, before registering her hesitant words.

"You're gonna have to… take off your shirt."

He hadn't answered straight away, but watched as her blush deepened, and she began to babble:

"Well, I mean, you're cut all over, and I guess I could cut your shirt away, but that would ruin it, so it would probably be better if you just took it off, unless it would hurt too much, then I'll cut it off, but otherwise if you could just… then I'd be able to patch you up and – "

"Dawn," he'd cut her off, "if you wanted to see me without my shirt, all you had to do was ask." His smirk had only deepened as her already pink cheeks turned red. Despite his bravado, he'd been hard-pressed to stay both still and silent throughout her attentions. Her hands had fluttered over his torso, sometimes cleaning out a cut, or bandaging one up, or lightly smoothing down the tape. At times she'd been stood before him, or behind, others sat before him on the bed, kneeling by him, and finally perched on top of her dresser, him stood between her legs. As the sun rose, she'd just finished the last gash, a deep welt on his shoulder.

He'd stepped away from her, giving her just enough room to slip down to stand on the floor, but leaving them stood close, bodies almost touching. Looking down at her, he'd whispered:

"You should get some sleep."

Just before he'd slipped out of her room, he'd turned back:

"And thanks, Sunrise."

He hadn't taken his jacket.

From then on, she'd been his Sunrise, even if he'd never used the name in front of anyone else. That summer, maybe the adults noticed that their usual trade of insults had simmered down to a more teasing level, or maybe they didn't. Many times they'd snuck out again, although from then they left together as well as returned. The two months she'd been in LA, it was Dawn he went to get patched up, even though it was torture to feel her hands on him. He'd evened the score, of course, saving her life within two weeks of her being there. Slowly, little by little, they'd shared their stories – just tiny bits at first, until both had the full picture. At the end, he'd realised he did believe in magic – because it had brought him her, and she was magic. How could he not believe? By the time she'd left, Connor had begun to think of her as his. He'd told her to keep his jacket.

For the next year, they'd kept in touch, writing letters until the Sunnydale postal service shut down, then he'd gotten Fred to show him how to email her. When he'd promised to stand by Cordy, he'd tried to force the thoughts of Dawn to the back of his mind, but never succeeded. When Angelus had been freed, she'd come with Willow to help with the spell, and he'd desperately tried to pretend like her presence wasn't driving him crazy, especially to Cordelia.

When his dad came back from visiting Buffy, he'd been nearly out of his mind after hearing the plan to form a second front. He couldn't handle the idea that he could lose her. When they'd turned up in LA, with only a few of the girls still surviving in hospital, he'd gone to her without thinking, wrapping her in his arms for the first time. He'd spent the night sat by her side, making sure she got a full night's sleep for the first time in months. The few days she'd stayed in LA, he'd barely left her. He was the one to wipe away her tears, to hold her as she cried. And he was the one who'd bit back his own as she left again.

It was her who broke the spell on him, even if she didn't know it. Somehow he'd ended up back in the alley where she'd saved him, and the first flash of his old life had come through. Her laughing, her gentle words, to watching her, her smart-ass comment. Her wrapped in his jacket, her blushing as she asked him to remove his top. Her hands bandaging him up. Her.

After that, he'd fought it. He'd fought so hard, to work out who this girl was, and how he knew her. Then when the spell's illusion fell away from him, where else could Connor go, but to her?

……………………………………………………………………………..

Dawn pulled the Pendant from her pocket and slipped it over her head. Waving once, she wrapped her fingers round the stone and closed her eyes. And disappeared. All eyes turned to the TV screen.

……………………………………………………………………………..

BACK IN ANGEL'S OFFICE…

"Dawn, maybe if you'd just calm down," Wesley put in, speaking softly so as not to anger her further. All his attempt did was turn those furious blue orbs on him.

"How can I? Don't you know what he's DONE?" then her voice had dropped, softer now, almost full of wonder: "Oh my Goddess. They don't know. Not even they know. You messed with them, too." The disgust and fury back in full force, though the volume stayed low: "You bastard!"

Angel didn't speak, only backed away, a look of realisation colouring his features.

"How could you do this, Angel? How could you play with his mind – his memories? Don't you know what he's already lived through? Fifteen years in a hell dimension and then you do THIS to him? How could you hurt him like this? Hurt Connor – he's your SON!" All through her speech, Dawn had kept her voice low, though her pure anger had shone through, but she could not keep herself from screaming the last word in his face. She barely registered the shock and confusion on the faces of the others as she barrelled on:

"And you just, what? Screwed with his mind? Did you even ask him? No, you didn't. I know that as well as you do. You just did what you wanted – "

"I thought I was giving him a better life!"

"Angel, it should still have been his choice. 'Cause in all your so noble sacrifice, you forgot one thing: People like us, like vampires, Slayers – and Keys and miracle children, people who's bodies are more powerful, stronger: we have a mind to match! We're always that little bit more focused, little sharper, little more driven, our memories that bit clearer. Connor fought it, Angel. Don't ask me how, 'cause I sure as hell don't know, but he did. And last night he turned up at the Council drunk – and alone – at eleven at night! HE COULD HAVE BEEN KILLED!"

"He… what? Oh God…"

"You're damn right 'Oh, God'. How dare you, Angel, how could you?"

"Dawn, I'm sorry…"

"It's not me you should be apologising to!" Dawn yelled, yanking her arm out of his grip. "I swear, Angel, good guy or not – you ever hurt Connor like this again, and I won't think twice. I don't need to be anywhere near you, I won't give you any warning, no more chances, I won't hesitate. You hurt him again, I'll set you on fire."

Looking at her then, her eyes blazing, glaring at him, a fireball lit in her hand already, as if to prove her point, he barely recognised the girl he'd known back in Sunnydale.

"Are you threatening me?"

"No, Angel," she looked him straight in the eye, head held high, challenging him, "I'm promising you."

Shaking her head one last time, she spun on her heel, and turned to leave. And stopped dead.

"Well, now I don't feel special anymore. Favourite threat of yours, the fire trick, innit niblet?"


	31. Reassurance

She couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't speak, couldn't think

She couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't speak, couldn't think. She was like a statue, her face still, mouth frozen in a perfect 'o' of surprise. For a minute she didn't move in the slightest, too shocked to function. Unable to believe, barely daring to hope this was real, she wasn't imagining things that could never be. Her eyes were the only thing that showed her to be living, though her gaze stayed fixed on his face. Swirling within those pure blue pools, was a whirlwind of undiluted emotions – of shock, of confusion, of disbelief – of wonder, of hope, of happiness.

He shifted under her gaze, though his eyes held hers – pride would not allow him to drop his sights. Not daring to break the silence, he mentally willed her to speak, to believe, to know it was really him. He knew there was a large chance she'd be angry, she'd yell, hit him, use that fireball in her hand on him, not Angel. But he clung to the hope he'd held ever since he materialised in Peaches' office – that she'd forgive him, she'd missed him, she'd smile at him, and everything would be back in place, he'd have his Lil' Bit back. She'd been the one to trust him, to stick by him even though she knew what he'd been – and who he'd been before, a secret only she knew. He needed to see that innocently trusting look, if he saw that, he knew it would be alright – she had always been the first of the Scoobies to trust, and her judging of character had always been the strongest – even as the eleven year old he had first met. He knew that now the Scoobies respected her judgements, and would follow her lead in trusting – or condemning – him.

"Spike?" she spoke softly, as if a loud noise would shatter the illusion. Hope suffused her gentle word, and filled her tentative step towards him.

"Yeah, Lil' Bit. It's me, I'm here." He answered her softly too, knowing her trust could be broken all too easily.

"You're really here?" Wonder spread through her eyes, and the faintest of smiles lit her sweet face. In that moment, the little girl he'd kidnapped and later walked home, who'd drunken chocolate with him and her mother, that little girl was stood before him, not her seventeen year old counterpart.

"I'm really here," he confirmed.

"But… how?"

"Dunno, Bit. Just am."

"You died."

"I've been dead a long time, pet."

"As in dusty. Buffy said…"

"She saw it. Then I turned up in Peaches' office."

"When?"

He didn't speak.

"When?!" her voice betrayed her anger, the response she feared, her pain.

"Two days after you lot left for the mother country." He replied, casting eyes to the floor, desperately trying to avoid that accusing gaze, the shine of tears unshed.

"And you didn't… Would you have even told us if I hadn't come here?"

"I would have niblet, I swear. I wanted to – I couldn't find the words! What was I supposed to do, ring and say: "By the way, I'm not gone after all"?"

Crack.

Spike covered his smarting cheek with his hand, the red there showing the strength of her slap. He looked down to her face, only to see her small fist swing towards him, and land with a thump square on his nose.

"Bloody hell," he muttered, "why do they always go for the bleedin' nose?"

"You…" Dawn began, her voice shaking with emotion – whether fury, sadness or happiness was unclear, at a guess, Angel would have said all three – her finger stabbing him in the chest with every word, "You are a big, stupid, moron. And an idiot. And I missed you."

Spike's arms wrapped around her slight frame as she burrowed her face into his chest. Tears now fell from her eyes, soaking into his shirt. But on both faces was a smile. The young girl was happy to have her old friend back in one piece, and Spike, for the first time since materialising in LA, was just happy.


	32. Turning Point

"Bit?" Spike started, drawing back slightly to gaze down at her, lifting her face up with a finger, "This mean I'm forgiven?"

Dawn stared thoughtfully up at him, her nose crinkling a little. Memories rushed through her mind, both of times long past and barely gone. The recent ones came first, moving backwards in time (CHECK ORDERING):

…realising the blonde vampire wasn't on the bus…

…telling Harry and the others about the creature he had been, and the man he'd become…

…the look on his face, when he discovered they'd kicked Buffy out – and the truths he'd spoken…

…the attempt to remove the First's trigger…

…Spike threatening Andrew…

…her own voice, harsh and unfamiliar, issuing her threat to him…

…Xander telling what he'd done – tried to do…

And earlier memories of him, those from before she'd lost her childish all-compassing faith in him:

…listening to his horror stories – all true, naturally – knowing full well she shouldn't be there…

…sitting cross-legged on the kitchen worktop, drinking hot chocolate with Spike and her foster mom…

…him helping her break into the Magic Box…

…him always being there, watching over her shoulder, no matter what…

…him helping her attempt to bring her foster mom back…

…innocently trusting he would return her home safely, the large heart-shaped ruby clutched in her twelve year old fist…

…"I must be really evil, to cause so much pain." – "I know a thing or two about evil, niblet, and you're not it." (CHECK QUOTES)

…him looking out for her the summer Buffy was gone…

…him arguing fiercely against her visiting Angel…

And finally, the million or so times, post-Sunnydale, she'd forced herself not to think about the supposedly bleached blonde vamp who'd been her friend.

Though her silence had only lasted a few precious seconds, to all in the room, and those secretly watching from the other side of the Atlantic, it lasted forever.

To the Fang Gang, it was the difference between the usual awkward, snarky Spike, and a surlier, downright impossible to live with counterpart.

To the Scoobies, this decision would decide the road they would all follow. If Dawn forgave Spike, they would all at least try – and if they failed, they would pretend. If she decided against, they'd follow her lead. After all, she had proved to be a brilliant judge of character, instantly knowing who could be trusted, and who was to be avoided at all costs. She'd known Angelus from Angel instantly, before even knowing it was possible for the switch to take place. In terms of trustworthiness, she'd had no truly major slip ups (unlike the rest of them, obvious examples being: Parker, Ford, Ampata, the praying mantis substitute teacher, ADD MORE). Of course, if she chose to forgive him, things _would_ be smoother, in the grand scheme of things.

To the assorted witches and wizards present, it was a simple question: to forgive or not to? Each one had their own view, with only the barest few really understand the effects the outcome would bring.

And Connor? He merely waited, knowing this wasn't a decision he could predict. A 'yes' would put him in the company of the impulsive, wild girl he loved. A 'no' would leave her more confused, quiet side in their midst. Then again, Connor mused, a slight smirk playing on his face, he of all people should know the Dawn's dealing with the line of Aurealius (SP??) were never governed by her head. No, his Sunrise either answered to her heart, or not at all.

If Spike needed to breath, he would have been trapping air in his lungs for so long he'd be positively blue by now. His eyes had not yet left her upturned face; he had not moved a muscle. Every fibre of his being was wishing for the young girl to utter on short word – strange how something so small could mean so much.

Her answer was so soft even he, so close and with vampiric hearing, almost missed it. It was only when she repeated it that a grin lit his dead face, so wide he felt certain his muscles would snap for being over-stretched.

"Yeah. Yeah, I guess it does."


	33. Two Faced

Blood red smoke issued from the Pendant resting in Dawn's clasped hand

Blood red smoke issued from the Pendant resting in Dawn's clasped hand. The scarlet tendrils wrapped around her slim frame, thicker…. thicker… until finally they hid her from sight. The smoke dissipated; she was gone.

NWC HQ, London, England: Scooby Lounge.

As the scarlet cloud disappeared on screen, the same smoke began to swirl in the room; at first just in wisps, then increasing to form and ever-whirling mass. The smoke began to recede, until the last tendril sank back into the heart-shaped ruby Dawn was tucking away inside her shirt.

Sighing gently, the girl dropped down into the empty armchair between Connor and one of the twins. Blinking sleepily, she raised her head towards the redhead and asked:

"Which one are you?"

"Fred."

"George."

"No, I'm Fred and you're George!"

"No, I'm Fred and you're George!"

As the twins argued over their respective identities, Dawn curled herself up in her chair even more, her legs tucking beneath her. Resting her head onto the large cushion she'd hugged to her body, her eyes fell shut and her face relaxed. Her lashes fluttering, her eyes opened, the usual ocean-blue replaced by pure whiteness.

"So many pretty colours…" she murmured, eyes impossibly wide. Those who'd seen this before (the Scoobies plus Connor) and Willow, who'd experienced it, smiled fondly. Neither redhead nor brunette could prevent the initial wondering distraction on employing the technique the pair had nicknamed 'Aura-Sight'. And in all honesty, who wouldn't be distracted by swirling colours, usually invisible, revealed all around them?

Focussing her blank gaze on the twins, she slowly blocked out everything but their auras. To the untrained eye, they merely seemed a reversal of the other, a perfect mirror image. A trained eye, on the other hand, knew what to look for. Around one of the seven chakras, usually in the third eye position, the eldest would be denoted by a ring of pure white. Fred, as the eldest, would be recognisable by this marking; George, the younger, could be identified by the missing ring. Luckily for the already tired teenager, the ring was easily located, and the blue and black colouring of her eyes flooded back.

"You're Fred," she started, pointing to the twin next to her, "and you're George."

"How'd you know?" the twins asked indignantly – no one, at all, ever, had been able to tell them apart – not without making a wild guess.

"Aura-Sight," Willow smiled, leaning on the back of Dawn's chair, glancing down to ask, "Third eye position?"

"Third eye position," Dawn confirmed.

"Excellent, I'll know who's who – less guess work! Willow replied chirpily, before ruffling the younger girl's hair affectionately, the latter scowling at the elder witch as she smoothed her chocolate locks back down.

"Now, see, there's something I just can't figure out," Remus began, his voice slow and thoughtful.

"How unusual," Sirius interjected, grinning lazily, slouching slightly in his seat.

"Careful, Ree, you're scaring me," Buffy warned, smirking.

"Hilarious, really," the werewolf replied dryly, prompting obviously well-used simultaneous responses:

"We try!"

quickly followed by a pair of seated mock bows.

"As I was trying to say," he continued, mock-glaring at his old friends, "What I don't understand is this: the Dawn I remember looked startlingly like a miniature, female James. The current Dawn, however, is completely different. The features are mostly the same – same nose, slightly pointed chin, forehead – the innately faerie or pixie like qualities. Her eyes and hair – nothing alike at all."

"You're right, of course," Sirius agreed, turning to look at the girl again, straightening in his chair as he did so, "completely right. Almost mentioned it myself."

The adults' heads were turning to look, nodding as they registered the differences between memory and present. The younger group also gazed at her, wondering.

"Wasn't her hair darker?" Tonks queried, "'course, I was just a kid then…"

"Black. She had masses of black curls," Molly Weasley recalled, before looking sharply over at her twin sons: "Fred, George, you two should remember – the three of you used to play together when you were small!"

"That was you!?" three voices exclaimed, three sets of eyes widening.

"Weren't her eyes terribly unusual? In colour, I mean," Arthur Weasley put in.

"Sort of… turquoise," Fred said, his eyes closed in his attempt to picture the girl he'd known.

"Incredibly bright," George added.

"Just before we left for LA, the Council put a permanent glamour on me," Dawn revealed, her voice sad, quiet.

"They thought I'd blend in once I'd been de-aged, but Dawnie had those distinctive eyes…" Buffy explained, her voice trailing away into nothingness.

"We think the reversal spell will be somewhere in the old files. The spell is incredibly complex and specialised – we can't even chip it." Giles said, somewhat impressed.

"Of course, that's if we ever get **into** the old files," Faith muttered darkly.

"Hey, that encryption's like a mile thick! I'd like to see you try – " Willow erupted.

"Will, honey, calm down," Xander soothed, before Andrew cut him off:

"Does anyone else hear beeping?"


	34. Hard Drive

**A/N: I am so, so sorry. I had such trouble writing this chapter, mainly 'cause I couldn't decide exactly how I wanted it to run. Sometimes I work kind of backwards - I know the beginning, and the end, but the way the path goes it totally up for debate. So, I'd like to apologise a million times to all my readers, I love you all and I'm sorry I kept you waiting so long! This is a double update (yay!) and hopefully things should speed up from here... Also, thank you all for reviewing, and please keep it up - it's such a great feeling to read what you all think, and I have been known to edit my ideas for the course of a story based on other opinions - after all, you all have such varied views, and a pairing I'd been wondering about writing it was confirmed in my mind by someone else - (but you'll find out later who and which pairing!)**

**Love, Willow**

"Hey, yeah, I do," Buffy agreed, her Slayer hearing picking up on the sound instantly.

"Sounds like one of the laptops – anyone running anything? Will? D?" Faith added.

Both girls jumped up immediately, grinning wildly. The pair rushed out of the room without seeming to communicate, causing confused looks all around. Within a minute, the two came running back in, clutching a laptop each, with coils of cable of various types wrapped around their arms and hands. Quickly setting the laptops down on either side of the largest coffee table (which happened to be in the centre of the group), they kneeled opposite each other, wordlessly connecting wires and threading them into an intricate web. Once finished, they simultaneously opened the laptops and pressed down on the power buttons.

"Excellent…" Dawn breathed, gazing at pages and pages of coding.

"Who said we wouldn't get into the files?" Willow smirked, raising her elegant eyebrows at Faith. Turning to the younger girl, she asked, "One last push?"

Nodding, Dawn agreed, both girls resting their hands on the keyboards, before swiftly typing lines of code, the linked computers slowly hacking into the reduced security.

"Welcome to the Watcher's Council file database."

The two hackers grinned up at each other, relaxing. They were in.

"Okay, I'll start the general file transfer – you try and find your file."

"On it."

The two quickly began to work, the steady beep of downloading sounding from Willow's computer, while Dawn navigated the system.

Eventually talk had filtered into the room, the conversations circling around the two kneeling females. The steady 'beep……beep……beep' of Willow's computer mingled with the voices, all underscored by the tapping of keys and clicking of Dawn's mouse.

"Almost done with all the old books – someone copied them all to the server, so I've still got all the actual files to deal with," Willow updated, glancing up at Giles' concerned face for what seemed like the hundredth time. Dawn, on the other hand, just shook her head slightly, nose and forehead crinkling up in frustration. She'd given up verbally reporting her lack of success after the first few times. The younger Potter girl was beginning to suspect that the file was either hidden within obscurely titled folders, or else completely non-existent. She'd already raided anything logically connected, and all the illogical connections she could think of. She was almost ready to call it a day – after all, they'd been working at this for six hours, and the sun would set soon – when she spotted a file labelled 'DISCIPLINARY_ACTION_Thompson_SI'.

_SI……_ she thought, _could it be? _Clicking twice, she opened the file, and began to read through the documents, noticing the dates corresponding to roughly a year after they'd left for America. The most informative was the fourth text file she opened. It gave the case for the dismissal of Watcher Sarah Isobel Thompson, which focused on her supposed 'insubordination', by endangering 'Directive 19817345' by teaching the subject to harness its powers. Dawn minimised the document, before clicking onto the file she'd found earlier, labelled 'Directives_1980_1990'. Entering the folder, she found the one matching the number she'd found.

Opening the document claiming to be the brief, she quickly scanned through, her eyes slowing turning rounder, and her voice shaking, both with fury and disbelief, as she said:

"I think I've found something."


	35. Directive 19817345

The Council of Watchers

Directive 19817345 – CONFIDENTIAL

Authorised by: Quentin Travers, Head Watcher

Subject: Effect of Familial Bonds on the Slayer, and the Response of the Demonic World

ACTION:

To allow a true sibling to remain with an active Slayer, without prior training or awareness of defence, yet with full understanding of the Slayer's role.

PROPOSED EFFECTS:

Distraction for the Slayer – wish to protect one over all.

Interest from demonic sections – target for use against the Slayer.

Rule out possibility of heritage-based Chosen status.

PROPOSED OUTCOME:

Swift killing of sibling by demonic sources, followed by Slayer either dying or turning Rogue.

TEST SUBJECTS:

Slayer Elizabeth Anne Potter and younger sibling, Untrained Blood-Witch Dawn Marie Potter.

PROGRESS:

Subjects committed to our protection, 29th September 1981. Aged 21 and 3 respectively.

Subject Slayer enters formal training, 1st October 1981.

Death of brother, James Andrew Potter, and sister-in-law, Lily Marie Potter, nee Evans. Nephew Harry James Potter survived under dubious circumstances. Custody given to mother's sister, Petunia Dursley, nee Evans. 31st October 1891. Subjects not informed.

Prospective foster family located, Los Angeles, California. 16th June 1987. Subjects not informed.

Slayer Elena Susanna di Lasio killed in action. No new Slayer Called – motions for fostering implemented, forced through. July 20th 1987. Subjects informed.

Subjects moved to Los Angeles, 4th August 1987.

Subjects moved to Hellmouth Sunnydale, California. Foster parents divorced. 25th August 1988. Subjects unaware of Hellmouth. Watcher Rupert Giles sent.

Discovery of insubordination – Watcher Sarah Thompson allegedly taught Subject sibling to control her Blood-Magic with Wiccan elements, beginning mid-1985 until Subject sibling was removed to Los Angeles. 14th December 1989.

DIRECTIVE TERMINATED – deemed unreliable due to Sibling's own power. 7th January, 1990.

NOTES:

To aid integration of Subjects into Los Angeles, two Directives implemented: 19886324 and 19886325.


	36. Kneejerk

A stunned silence followed Dawn's pronouncement. Both Xander and Buffy practically flung themselves onto the floor on either side of Dawn, not quite believing the words the girl had read out – somehow they hadn't believed the old Council could be so callous. Willow quickly located the file on her own laptop, and was soon joined by Andrew and Faith, Giles peering over the younger ones' shoulders to read the file for himself. Will finished first, and just stared in disbelief at the screen. Xander's mouth slowly dropped open as he read, saying afterwards:

"What? But how…. That's so… Huh?"

"Those assholes!" Buffy cried, anger filling her hazel eyes.

"Please, Buffy, language – " Giles started.

"G! Don't even say your defending the bastards!" Faith yelled furiously, "I mean, I knew the old Council were freaks, but this… Assholes doesn't even BEGIN to cover it!"

"Faith, I was not about to defend the actions of my predecessors. You know as well as I, they were bloody fools, but there is nothing that can be done to change things. At least now we know what happened, and we understand the chain of events, though the motives, as ever, are a complete mystery."

"Giles is right, Buffy," Willow added softly, "Hey, one of the other directives probably details the spell the put on Dawnie, that's good, right?"

"How could they plan this? To let Dawnie be killed in some experiment?" Buffy asked, her anger mixing now with disgust.

"How could they not tell us what happened? How could they let us believe they were okay?" Dawn countered, her voice low, but steady.

"Dawnie, it's okay to be mad…" Xander told her, concerned by the girl's lack of reaction.

"I'm not. I don't care what they tried to do, to me, anyway. I could – and did – take care of myself. Their motives… okay, they sucked, but they had no effect. I can't be mad because they failed. The way they went about it though…… it's just not fair. Not to us, not to Harry. To see it written there like it's nothing… that hurts." Dawn's eyes filled with tears, the sheen they caused masking the dark edge within. Blinking twice to clear the salty liquid, the girl reopened blue eyes, now devoid of emotion. Beginning to move through the system once more, she found the 1988 directive file.

Locating the two mentioned directives, she opened the first, scanning the text document. It described a fairly basic potion, a Rejuvenating Draught, and a simple incantation – with counter-spell. The incantation was one Dawn hadn't seen before, but a quick mental translation showed the intended effects – to lengthen the effect of a potion indefinitely. So that was how they'd made Buffy younger. Dawn smirked to herself – finally she had something to hold over her sister: after all, she had the distinct impression Buffy was enjoying looking ten years younger than her old friends, and ageing that much in a day would never be of the good for the elder Potter.

The second file proved much more difficult to understand. Though the original spells and potions used on her own appearance were present, it was clear the old Council had never imagined the need to remove them. There were no antidotes or counters in the file, and Dawn sent the file to the printer, aware that there was another challenge ahead. The paper copies would allow for notes and ideas – but this could take a while. After all, neither girl really knew potion-making that well, so Dawn was beginning to think that this would come down to the trial-and-error way. Which could be incredibly amusing, she mused, before her more pessimistic side chipped in: or could lead to some weird side-effects.


	37. Game Plan

Three days had passed. Despite the mountain of work – for the Council, for her wizarding exams, on the spell to return her appearance, patrol – Dawn had managed to spend time with Harry and his friends, and with Connor. Buffy had been able to settle back into her old friendships – whilst retaining the new, of course – meaning plenty of time with Remus and Sirius. They had made little progress in fully taking up their old lives, but they had their plans. But all too soon those three days passed, and things in either world had never been stable for long…

The eight teenagers sat in the living room of Number Ten, Grimmauld Place. Now that it had been cleared, Molly had agreed that they needed space within the Black manor to call theirs – if only to keep them out of the way of Order meetings. Of course, the twins had taken this literally, and now the door was heavily booby trapped for the visitor who didn't feel the need to knock. Their reasoning ran along the lines of 'whatever you can do…', but luckily the Weasley matriarch felt that to stop them would be hypocritical – she always cast privacy charms on the door for meetings.

Ginny and Hermione were curled up in armchairs, Harry and Fred shared the longest sofa, and Ron, George and Dawn had a shorter settee each, with Connor leaning against the arm of Dawn's. Around the room, there was evidence of them – a stack of books on a side-table, Exploding Snap cards, a wizard chess set still covered in the carnage of the last game. And also modern things – Dawn's laptop resting on the main table, her bag dropped by the chair, even a television and box of DVDs in the corner. It was clear that this space had been colonised by the group, and that they were comfortable here (or as comfortable as they ever would be in Grimmauld Place).

"When are you and Buffy openly 'reappearing', anyway?" Harry asked. The question paused the previous – rather less important – conversation. All faces turned to Dawn, who could only shrug.

"I don't know, to be honest. Soon, I think, we've just been so busy. We meant to go back to the Ministry earlier this week, but then there was that minor apocalypse with the Jii'nai demons… Timings I don't know, but I know the plan."

"How are you going to handle it? I mean, there are going to be arguments, disbelievers, all manner of problems," Hermione put in, looking up from her book.

"Honestly, or as far as we can be – it's way easier to keep the story straight the more truthful it is. But the goblins have already accepted our return – if not publicly – so we'll be able to access our vaults. We've warned the Minister, giving us more back-up – I know Fudge is useless, but people listen to him, for some ridiculous reason – and we'll probably use the Prophet early on. Apparently, the Potters have a majority stock control in it… which we _will_ be reminding them of. They've been getting far too complacent in insulting Harry, and Buffy's furious. We'll take back the family's assets, and the Wizengamot seat. And, well, Buffy's going to kill me for mentioning it, but we were wondering about becoming your legal guardians, Harry."

Silence.

"I mean, legally, there's no reason why not, unless you don't want to, in which case we really won't be insulted, Harry, I promise. It wouldn't be fair to just blitz into your life with no warning and then get mad if you didn't want to change everything, which we won't, and hey, I'll completely understand, I mean, Buffy can be a real pain to live with, she totally hogs the bathroom. Not that we have to share anymore, but we used to. It was just a thought we had, we'd love to have you, but like I said, it's your choice, completely, no strings attached, and – "

"Sunrise," Connor's deep voice cut across the babble, shocking her as he caught her wrist in his large hand, forcing her to stop gesticulating wildly, "I think he gets the picture. Now hush while he takes all that in."

"Okay," she whispered, blushing. He smirked slightly, chuckling lowly as he slid behind her onto the couch, before pulling her back against him, keeping her still.

"How do you say that much without breathing?" Ron marvelled, eyes glazed. Ginny extended on leg, kicking him, before admonishing with a glare learned from their mother:

"Ron, could you be more dense? You're ruining a big moment."

Finally, following more silence, Harry looked up, confusion marring his face. He spoke, and his voice was hoarse.

"Are you kidding? You'd actually want me? To live with you?"

"Of course we would – why wouldn't we? You're family, Harry."

"But the Dursleys…"

"What did they do? Why would you think we wouldn't want you? What have they been telling you?"

Harry began to speak, finally telling his friends and his aunt the full damage done by the sorry excuses for human beings he called family.

Buffy Anne Potter was annoyed. No, not annoyed, completely and utterly freaking FURIOUS. And everyone knew that a furious Slayer was to be avoided at all costs. Which was probably why none of the Scoobies had argued when she'd announced her intention to push the big public return forward. To tomorrow. What Harry had told Dawn, and then Dawn told to Buffy, was unforgivable. Now Harry may not know anything about the way the Muggle adoption system worked, but Buffy did – after nearly having Dawn taken away from her, she'd done her research. Those scumbags had pretended to be 'caring' for him – and what a sick, twisted version of 'care' it had been – out of the supposed goodness of their hearts. In reality, they'd been receiving money from the Muggle Government on a monthly basis to provide for him – not that he'd ever felt any benefit. They'd treated him as their little slave boy, while lavishing the money they earned from having him there on their pig of a son, Dudley. Buffy would not let them have custody of him for one moment longer than necessary – even if they wouldn't be near him until next summer.

Doubtlessly, they'd put up a fight, not wanting to lose their little earner, Buffy sneered. Her claim was far stronger than theirs – as his father's twin, compared to his mother's estranged sister – and she had the might of the Council behind her, which she would utilise if the need arose. Let alone the fact that Harry _wanted _to live with her and Dawn. Never mind, she'd find enough proof of his treatment there, more than enough to convince the courts to transfer custody to her. Buffy had more than enough money to drag the Dursleys through the courts, and she may even get a conviction out of it. They deserved worse than prison for what they'd done – and chances were they'd lose Dudley in the process. At least it'd give the other boy a shot at becoming a decent human being.

Buffy closed her eyes, forcing herself to breath slowly in and out, calming herself enough to think through her plans, for the next day, and further ahead. Tomorrow, she and Dawn would simply walk into the Ministry once more, and be a hell of a lot less subtle. If only the spell on Dawn had been broken already… oh well, Dawn and Willow were working separately on it, and the elder Potter had a feeling Hermione had teamed up with Dawn to look through it. If they were incredibly lucky, someone would crack it in the few hours left to them. If not, they'd use the same temporary glamour as last time. Buffy pulled her mind back to the next day – there would be a scene, she knew: the Potters had always been a powerful force in the magical community, and not since her brother's death had that power been used. There would be plenty who had been dreading Harry reaching majority and learning how to exercise even a little of the influence the family name afforded him. But for her to appear, seemingly returning from the dead… well, certain players would be literally soiling their pants. In the short time they'd been back, the two sisters had learnt of a fair number of situations that would never have been able to occur had they been around, and to be honest she was looking forward to ruining their pretty little façades.

The Prophet would be made to eat its words: after all, you could hardly write filth on a daily basis without expecting backlash, especially against a member of the family who damn near own you outright. Never mind owning the Prophet – half their funding came direct from the Potter vaults, and they would need to remember that. The simple reappearance should do the trick to stop further disparagement, but she'd ensure a printed apology, if not more. The Ministry would be forced to become more active – they'd become far too complacent in the years she'd been away, perhaps relaxing with few families left to take an interest in the Ministry's dealings. They too, she'd wager, were still drawing the contributions her great-grandfather had gifted them, despite treating Harry as a criminal for self-defence. Fudge, she expected, had been hoping to keep Harry from realising the power he had even in the slightest, so he could keep using the money – earmarked by her great-grandfather's will for the DMLE, and the Department of Mysteries – for his own ends. Oh well, she was sure a little of that money had begun finding its way to the proper recipients, and more would follow. Their return would also shake up the Wizengamot, as they would reclaim the family seat between them. From there, she would see Sirius pardoned, and compensated for his false imprisonment, and he could then take his rightful place in the Black seat. If she could, she'd get full trials for others convicted without trial. By shining a light on one miscarriage, she'd open the floodgates of inquiry. More than one would have been unfairly placed in Azkaban, and she wanted them pardoned, if only posthumously.

Yes, she'd work her way through to change. The Potters had always had power and influence, and now there was someone who knew how to wield it to the greatest effect. Her father had kept both her and James involved in the family dealings since they turned sixteen, and Dawn and Harry would learn from her how to do the same. Dawn at least knew of the command the family had, and could use that to some effect. Harry, however, had no idea. Well, that would change. The wizarding world had walked all over Harry far too many times in her absence, and she would show him how to use their name to his benefit.

Buffy froze, hearing her two oldest friends entering the room. Before she turned to greet them, a brief smile lit her face. Change couldn't come fast enough.


	38. Spiralling

Connor had joined the residents of Grimmauld Place for their evening meal. The chair at his side was empty, awaiting Dawn's return from the neglected garden – she found that spending too much time in the old manor affected her magic, and so regularly went out to centre herself. Across from him sat Harry, still muted by his revelations, and either side of the boy were Ron and Hermione, the latter still puzzling over the printed sheets detailing the spell used on Dawn. Ginny was next, occasionally leaning in to comment on any ideas Hermione had. On the other side of Dawn's still-empty chair were the twins, heads together and deep in conversation. Not that low voices prevented Connor hearing their talk.

He was distracted from eavesdropping by the loud and vaguely annoying blaring of the All-American Rejects' "Dirty Little Secret" originating from Dawn's cell phone, left by the side of her plate. Sighing, he realised she would not yet be ready to come inside. Assuming it would be one of the Scoobies checking on them, he flipped the phone open without so much as glancing at the display. That was his first mistake.

"Hey, Dawn's outside right now – can I help or do you want me to go and get her?" Second mistake.

"Connor?" came the reply, sounding slightly tinny. Later, Connor would blame that distortion for his slow uptake, but now he just didn't recognise the voice. Mistake number three.

"Yeah, it's me. Who is this? Connection must be bad…"

"Connor, it's me, Angel. Your dad. I need to talk to you, not Dawn, I just…" Connor's fourth mistake was being too stunned to reply, allowing Angel to plough ahead.

Finally, he processed the turn of events. With no words to express himself, he reverted to growling down the phone line, before dropping the cell phone, still open, and streaking out of the room.

Seconds after he left, Dawn entered, seemingly aware of a problem. She made straight for the still-babbling cell phone, picking up and after a second's listening uttered what sounded like a string of swear words, although, as they were in one of the many demon dialects, only herself and Angel, half a world away, understood them. She then spun on her heel and shot after Connor, finding her way to him by following the crashes now reverberating through the house.

She slowed after reaching the seventh and topmost landing, an unexpected – yet still familiar – feeling urging caution. The shaking of the house led her to the door on the far left. Inching it open, her eyes became impossibly wide. She could see no sign of Connor, not through the whirlwind of trinkets and large objects now flying around the room. Stepping onto the wildly vibrating floor boards, she nearly lost her balance. Righting herself, Dawn began to step into the maelstrom, eyes searching for the boy. Locating him curled into a corner, she attempted to reach him. Her dodging kept her unscathed for the most part, but a large silver candlestick flew into the side of her head, and Dawn felt the hot, sticky blood well above her eyebrow, and her hair swiftly dampening. Regardless, she moved on, until she could crouch in front of him. Wrapping her small hands around his wrists, she pulled him to face her, heart breaking on seeing his expression.

"Connor, listen. Connor," she spoke softly, and when she failed to gain his attention, she leaned forward, kneeling and almost resting herself against him as she spoke into his ear.

"Connor, I need to you to calm down…"

"How, Sunrise?" he growled out in response, "How the hell can I calm down?"

His hands were encircling her wrists now, his grip tight, not allowing her to move away from him.

"Just breathe, Connor. Slowly, breathe."

She could feel his chest rise against hers, and then fall. Before, he had been so still, barely breathing in his wild anger, just growling constantly with the little air he had.

"Okay," she continued, "now I need you to let everything fall to the floor – slowly. Can you feel the ties linking you to them?"

Dawn felt him nod, head falling into the crook of her neck.

"They feel all tense, right?"

Another nod.

"Well, relax them, just like you'd relax a part of your body."

She heard crashes from around the room. Better dropped than still flying around, she supposed.

"Now, relax your body, starting from the toes. Just let all your muscles relax. You need to not be so tense."

Dawn felt him do so, the shaking lessening as he did so. When at last the floor was still, she spoke again.

"Hey, hey. You okay?"

She felt his face lift from her throat, and then his eyes were looking back at her. And felt her heart break all over again. The earlier fury was replaced by swirling confusion, tinged with apprehension. In less than ten minutes, everything had changed for him. He already knew it, but he needed confirmation. And she had to be the one to deliver that earth-shattering blow.

"Dawn, what just happened? Tell me, 'cause I'm not sure I understand." His usually low voice was scratchy, as if each word was costing him so much effort.

"Con, I…" Dawn sighed, resigning herself to the words she had to say. Steeling herself, she looked directly into his eyes. "Connor, you used magic."

"See, that's what I thought. But it's not possible, is it? I'm not a wizard. I don't use magic. Hell, I barely trust magic. So, I can't have done magic, now can I, huh, Dawnie?" His voice had grown progressively louder, and angrier. While nothing was zooming around – yet – his grip on Dawn's wrists had tightened, and he had yanked her closer to him with each statement.

"It happened, Con. I don't know how and I don't know why, but it did. Accidental magic – it's a burst of power from anger or fear. And it shows you've got the gift." She was trying desperately to keep her voice steady and soothing, but she knew it shook. Damn him, but he terrified her when he got like this. Straight fury she could handle, but this controlled anger was what drove him to his worst moments. Like every time before, Dawn was terrified.

"The gift? This is a GIFT? Are you kidding?"

"Con, I – "

"Oh, don't give me that, Dawnie. We both know I don't want this. So don't call it a _gift_. Now tell me how to get rid of it."

"You can't, Connor – it's a part of you. But you can learn, you can – "

"Go to your little magic school? No. I want it gone!" He roared the last point, yanking her off her knees and into his lap. One hand grasped her wrists, which he'd pulled to behind her back. The same arm held her crushed against his chest. His other hand slid behind her neck to the base of her skull, forcing her to look at his face. He spoke again, his voice dark. "Tell me how."

"Connor, I can't! I – "

"Scared, Dawnie? Poor little baby… Do I scare you? You want to run away?" He was lashing out now, unable to stop himself spiralling, he would hurt her as much as he could, to keep her with him.

"Stop it, Connor." Her low voice shook, and she cursed it.

"Damn, I can even feel you shaking. Smell the fear… practically taste it. God, it's intoxicating," he continued, regardless.

Despite herself, Dawn fell further:

"Connor, please…"

"Please what, Dawnie? What do you want, hey? Me to let you go? No, I don't think so. You came to me, remember. You _want _to be here with me."

"I _want_ you to be yourself again."

"I can't though, can I? 'Cause my _self_ doesn't do magic, now does it?"

"You do, Connor. It's always been there. Just under the surface."

Silence. He didn't release her, didn't move at all. She could only watch his face for change, his eyes having shut. When they shot open once again, they were sad.

"What am I going to do, Sunrise?"

His grip on her slackened, but she didn't move away. His head fell back into her throat, and she wrapped her arms around him.

"We'll figure it out, Con. It'll be okay."

It was the first time anyone had promised him that. And Connor, despite all his training, let Dawn hold him as he cried.


	39. The Circus

A/N: Hi everyone, I'm so sorry that I've haven't updated recently. My only excuse is my AS Level exams that I have just sat, followed by illness. While I am still sick, I will hopefully manage to overcome the pain to keep writing, as I'm nearing the end of the first story in what will be a series! Thank you so much to everyone who has read the story so far, and added the story to their alerts, and me to their alerts - you have no idea how happy and proud of my work that makes me. The only other thing I can say is PLEASE REVIEW! Oh, and ENJOY!

Disclaimer: Yeah, I still don't own this. As shown by the fact JK Rowling and Joss Whedon are famous and rich, and I'm not.

The Potter sisters sat side-by-side in the luxury limousine. They'd been planning to just take one of the numerous Council owned cars, but at the last minute, Xander had suggested the chauffer-driven limo. Given their desire to make their reappearance as dramatic as possible (and Buffy's complete refusal to let Dawn drive, despite her younger sister being safer on the roads), they hadn't been able to resist. Both sisters were impeccably groomed, every miniscule detail of their appearances calculated to give a polished overall effect. Buffy glanced down at her own charcoal grey slacks and soft pink cashmere sweater. After much deliberation, it had been decided that she needed to project an air of maturity, as she would be taking control of one of the Wizarding World's most notable families. Her chosen outfit was classically stylish, the cap-sleeved high-and-wide scoop necked jumper was elegant but fashionable, and perfectly set off by her darker pink silk day robe. Her golden hair was pulled back into a smooth ponytail, not a hair out of place. She reached a hand up to the charm bracelet resting on her slim wrist. A Christmas present from James in sixth year, it had held both the Potter crest, and the special Marauder's crest. On her birthday, a miniature stag, dog, werewolf, rat, panther and tiger had been added by the boys. Lily had added a lily flower, not realising she was represented by the tiger. Buffy lifted a finger to touch the newest two charms: a tiny faerie-girl (for Dawn, their Pixie) resting between the stag and panther, and the charm between the stag and lily, a baby stag (for Harry, the "Pronglet").

The elder woman glanced across at her sister, a slight petulant scowl forming. Dawn had argued – successfully – that she could stick with a version of her normal fashion, with the addition of a robe. Apparently, no one could expect the wilful teenager to dress too maturely, and she wasn't the one taking over the line, anyway. So the younger Potter wore a dark blue denim skirt (mid-thigh) and a bright turquoise camisole edged with black lace under the lighter turquoise silk day robe. Turquoise wedges completed the outfit. Buffy smiled slightly as she saw the ancient gold chain of the Pendant around Dawn's neck, the jewel hidden beneath her clothes. It was reassuring to think her younger sister was protected by some of the Powers' most formidable Champions wherever she went, especially when Buffy could not be eternally by her side. Not that the younger girl seemed to want protecting. The smile grew as she took in the almost waist-length jet black curls falling over Dawn's slim shoulders. Hermione – bless her – had found the sticking point to the glamour spell. Apparently, the English translation they had been working from was flawed. Once the young witch had translated it back into Latin, realised it didn't make sense, corrected it and then re-translated it into English, it had taken Willow and Dawn under an hour to crack it and write a counter. Half an hour of magic ritual later, and an even paler, black haired and turquoise eyed Dawn was sitting within the protective circle. There had been other slight changes: her eyes were larger, and rimmed with long, coal black lashes. Her lips were redder, by a shade or two. She seemed more fluid than ever, as though being forced into a form not her own had suppressed her natural grace.

Buffy's smile turned into a smirk. Out of the three siblings, she was the only one to escape the Potter 'curse'. James had had the trademark uncontrollably messy black hair, just like their father, which he had passed on to Harry. Dawn had inherited the female version of wild black curls. She, on the other hand, had gotten their mother's golden hair, with just the slightest wave. Oh yeah, she was the lucky one.

Buffy was broken out of her thoughts by amused turquoise eyes looking back at her. Apparently her scrutiny had not gone unnoticed. Rolling her own eyes, Buffy turned her head towards the now-speaking driver.

"We are here," he announced, before stepping out of the car to open the door for the two passengers to step out onto the street. A doorman stood to one side of large ornate doors, even now moving to open them. Inside this grand London hotel was the Ministry of Magic's Important Guests entrance. The doorman winked and muttered something as the Potters passed through. He was, in fact, a wizard employed to forewarn the Ministry of visitors ahead of time.

The sisters crossed the hotel's decorative reception heading directly for the central lift. On entering, Dawn muttered a quick Latin phrase, closing the lift doors before they could be joined. Buffy then pressed five buttons in quick succession: 6 – 2 – 4 – 4 – 2. The lift began to move, and a cool voice welcomed them to the Ministry a moment before the doors opened on the Atrium. The sisters glanced at each other, sharing a smirk.

Today was not a good day to be Cornelius Fudge. He had already had to deal with yet another missive from Dumbledore about You-Know-Who's supposed return. At least the world wasn't believing the utter rubbish the Headmaster was spouting, based purely on the word of the Potter boy. Thankfully, he'd been able to lean on the Prophet, ensuring they built on the rumours Rita Skeeter had been printing, portraying the boy as mentally unstable, and Dumbledore as aging, and losing his grip. All true, of course. Potter had been given far too much privilege over his four years at Hogwarts; no one wanted to hurt the orphaned boy, but it had crossed the line when he'd begun his foolhardy adventures. Too much freedom had brought the boy more fame, and he'd clearly invented this last tale to garner more attention. His farce entry into the Triwizard Tournament had proved his attention seeking. And Dumbledore allowed the boy practically free reign in his years at Hogwarts, and Potter had obviously come to expect the same from the rest of the world.

One of Cornelius Fudge's more unusual traits was the ability to totally suppress his own memories, if they contradicted with his current agenda. For instance, he was now completely almost completely free of the memory of the polite boy he'd met only two years prior. Not to mention countless memories of pleading for help from the Headmaster of Hogwarts, and the ever-patient and wise replies.

And now, the two elder Potters were making their return to the Wizarding World ever-so public. To be honest, he'd been secretly hoping that they'd be subtle. Somehow, he hadn't remembered that these were Potter women. The entire family had been troublemakers, and it was clear that these two were no different. Not to mention they'd destroyed his hopes of never having to worry about the might of the Potter name being used against him. Fudge brought himself back into focus, watching the impromptu press conference the Potter sisters were holding in his – HIS – office. The media had quickly gathered after the two had loudly declared their return, and now his office was a media circus. Even the Prophet reporters were present, frantically scribbling down the details. Something told him there was no way this story would reflect badly on Dumbledore or the Potter boy… unless he mentioned that even Dumbledore had failed to find the girls…

Fudge pushed his way to stand between the chairs the sisters were conducting the conference from. Smiling falsely, he waited for the younger to finish her answer:

"…while we've been away, we don't expect him to suddenly accept us. There's a lot we need to talk about, to get to know each other."

Fudge suppressed a smirk, seeing his moment:

"And of course, you will give the boy some stability, won't you, my dears? He has hardly had the most fortunate upbringing, and I fear it has… affected him somewhat. I'm sure your presence will calm him."

Buffy felt the Slayer's hackles rise in response to the comments. While the Minister may sound like he was concerned for Harry's wellbeing, he was clearly denouncing him further, and laying the blame on his absentee family. Glancing at Dawn, she felt the flare of magic from her sister, and saw the anger flashing in her turquoise eyes. Turning her glance into a quick cautionary look, she spoke before her sister could begin yelling at Fudge.

"Obviously, Harry's happiness is my primary concern. I will do everything in my power to see him happy and safe – as any guardian would."

The blonde forced done a smirk of her own. Fudge could not push the case further without making his subtext obvious, and she'd slipped in part of her own agenda.

"Elizabeth? Does that mean you wish to claim Mr Potter's guardianship yourself?"

Buffy located the reporter, a young man who worked for the Wizarding Wireless Network.

"Dawn and I have spoken to Harry about the possibility, all that remains is the paperwork. Harry deserves to be with family who love him."

The elder girl relaxed, feeling her sister's power fade into the background. It would not have been good for Dawn to – almost literally – blow up. Now the conference was once again in Potter control, and Buffy continued to outline their basic – and public – plans.

"Obviously, we'll be visiting Gringott's later today, and we will spend time going over the estate. I will, also, be teaching my sister and nephew about the workings of the family, as well as ensuring my sister study for her exams to allow her into Hogwarts' seventh year. We will be claiming our Wizengamot seat, naturally. From there, well, we shall have to see."

"Any final messages to the community, Miss Potter?"

Buffy nodded to Dawn, allowing her to answer. She trusted the younger girl's eloquence, and her knowledge of what people wanted to hear. Buffy would have been far more likely to insist Voldemort's return all over again.

"We would like to thank anyone who has looked after Harry while we couldn't, and say how glad we are to be back in the Wizarding World. To be home. We'd also like to thank everyone who was part of the search when we went 'missing' – we've already received apologies for the failure. But I'd like to say that to me, it's not a failure. You tried, and I know that the forces our brother put in place to protect us were too strong for you to find us. But you tried, and so you didn't fail. Thank you."

Buffy rose, the motion copied by her sister. She spoke under her breath to the Minister, and the sisters left the room. No doubt they'd be followed by flashing cameras for a few hours, but they'd expected that.

Buffy suppressed a savage grin, hearing the idiot they called a Minister trying in vain to add his own spin to the rapidly dispersing media. Apparently, it didn't matter that the Ministry couldn't find them either, because it was all Dumbledore's fault. Nincompoop.

The three remaining (non-traitorous) Marauders sat around the kitchen table of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. Covering the table were various files on the Potter estate, and notebooks and parchments detailing the plans they were laying. Buffy had chosen her strategizing team both out of habit and logically. So many times they had sat up plotting their next adventure or prank that it didn't seem as though fourteen years had gone by, and she found her self half-expecting James to appear any second, Peter in tow, laden with food courtesy of the Hogwarts house elves. But that would never happen again – James was long dead, along with Lily, and, unlike her own, their deaths were terribly permanent and final. And Peter had lived up to his rodent Animagus form, ratting her brother and his family out to Voldemort. Those days could never come back, no matter how Buffy wished they would.

Logically, these two were her best allies. As soon as they had some rough ideas of how to proceed, Dawn and Harry would be involved to give their ideas and learn, but to begin with, this trio had work to do. Buffy herself had the training she and James had received from their father, and Sirius had been taught similar by his own parents at a young age. They both knew how the Wizarding world worked, and the 'proper' channels. They also knew the subtler ways to resolve matters, through dinners, balls and donations. There were differences between the ways and means they had been instructed in, and so they were able to bounce ideas of each other to find their own way to exploit openings. Remus had the head for numbers, and so was able to make sense of the piles of bank listings, and information on the various shares – both Muggle and Wizarding – the Potters owned. They were halfway through a discussion when the fire blazed green, and an all-too familiar head spoke from the flames.

"Plotting, are we? How very… Slytherin of you."

"Snivellus." Buffy replied coolly, one arm restraining Sirius from a louder outburst.

"Potter," the hook-nosed professor returned.

"Severus, is there a message?" Remus interjected, attempting to diffuse what could become a very difficult situation.

"Yes. Albus says he wishes to speak with all three Potters before they next appear publicly. Apparently, the brat's safety could become an issue." Snape's voice was derisive, and only served to anger the blonde Slayer.

"Do not, ever, refer to Harry as a brat, Snivellus. Or you will personally understand the meaning of the word 'Slayer'." Buffy's voice was low, but steady. So many demons had heard that tone, mere moments before a shining blade had ended their life. It was the tone reserved for anyone threatening those closest to the Slayer, which clearly included her nephew. Eyes flashing, she levelled a glare at the Potions Master. To his credit, the man did not visibly recoil as most would have done, but responded with a sneer. The Slayer grinned, having caught the momentary fear in his eyes. Snape's head disappeared, the fire turning orange once more.

"Plotting is not bloody Slytherin… Slytherin my arse…" Sirius mumbled as they returned to their plans, causing slight smiles on his two friends' faces. Yes, it really was almost like old times.


	40. Flicker

A/N: I'd just like to thank everyone for sticking with me so far. I know the posting has been slow, and we're still in the summer, but I swear we are nearly there. As this is getting very long, the school year will be posted seperately, as the sequel - title undecided, any suggestions will be considered. If there are any MCR fans reading, check out crypticPRINCESS's story, Mischief Managed. There's even a character based on me in it :P, Aurora Jasmine Tsar. Oh yeah, and PLEASE REVIEW!

Love you all xxx

Half an hour in to their meeting, the Order of the Phoenix was disturbed from their discussion by the sound of the front door slamming open, followed by the hall portraits beginning to scream. The first to rush from the room was Remus, having caught the scent of the newcomers instantly. Seconds after him came Sirius, hoping desperately he was reading his old friend's reactions wrong.

The two tore up the stairs, followed by the rest of the Order, and past the main stairs, not seeing the younger occupants of the house peering over the balcony at them. Seeing the pair moving so slowly into the house, Remus froze, just whispering:

"No…"

Sirius continued forward, shifting the female onto his arm, and finding her too weak to stand, lifted her up. He carried her quickly into the next room, laying her on a sofa. Three more Order members rushed forward, two wrenching at the curtains of Mrs. Black's portrait, one supporting the male and aiding him to move into the room after Sirius. The rest either Silenced portraits or hurried into the drawing room. In the rush, Mrs Weasley pulled Remus with her after Sirius, and the six teenagers slipped into the room behind them.

Harry stopped dead, the other five almost crashing into his back. In less than a second they were all aware of what was happening in the room. Tonks was just helping Connor into a chair, Moody speaking rapidly to the boy. His hair was dark with blood, red marks showing where bruises would soon form. Cuts and gashes criss-crossed over his face and arms, and from his movements it was clear he had a few broken bones. Professor McGonagall was over by the fire, talking to someone through the Floo network. Snape was by a table, clearing space. The remainder of the Order were pressed against walls, keeping back out of the way. Molly Weasley, Remus, Sirius and Dumbledore were crowded around the long sofa, and only when Molly turned to Arthur for comfort, did they see the cause for the gathering.

Lain out on the couch was Dawn Potter, her skin deathly pale, and scarlet-brown rivers of dried blood ran from her right shoulder. Looking closer, they could see a deep wound from which the blood came, and still flowed sluggishly. A few other minor cuts and marks littered her body. The only other serious injury crossed her stomach diagonally, just skimming the top of her belly button, only revealed because of the damage to her shirt. Most worryingly – in a medical sense – her eyes were shut, and she was breathing shallowly. Curiously, her body and hair was glowing faintly, flickering rapidly between pale white light, and an eerie darkness. The effect, coupled with the vague feeling of power in the air, was terrifying. All six teens whitened, but the most affected was Ron, who paled considerably, leaning back onto the wall for support as the sheer, unrestrained magic in the room washed over him and through him.

Connor was exhausted, both from the long fight in which they had been heavily outnumbered, and the slow walk back to the nearest sanctuary. Even though Grimmauld Place was by far nearer, he had still had to support a badly wounded and nearly unconscious Dawn for a half-hour walk, as well as being hurt himself. Now, he relaxed slightly, and allowed the female Auror to begin to tend to his wounds – he would have to adjust to the liberal use of magic, anyway – knowing that his Sunrise was in safe hands. These were old friends of her family, they would look after her. The older Auror, who commanded Connor's respect because of his battle wounds, began to question him, and he answered as clearly and honestly as he could.

"We were patrolling, had been since sundown. We were heading back this way – it was only a routine sweep, just quick, before the meeting tonight for Dawn. We came across a few fledges, new vampires, you know – easy dustings. Ran into some Fyarl demons, five of them: that slowed us down. By the time we took them out we were still a few miles away, and the meeting would be starting. So we started running, fast, so she'd only be about ten minutes late. We were about a mile away, and we met about thirty vamps – older, experienced. We'd staked about twenty of them, we were winning easily, when we heard… cracking sounds – apparation. Then there were seven or eight wand-users, like you. Black-robed, masked – Death Eaters, I'm guessing. Started yelling and firing off light-beams – "

"Were you hit, laddie? Either of you?"

"No, sir," Connor replied to the interruption, barely registering the surprise that crossed the man's face, "we dodged. Buffy said they can't curse you if they can't hit you. I was playing distraction, Dawnie threw a few fireballs to confuse them, then pulled out her pistol and starting shooting – aiming for wands, breaking them. The bullets snapped the wands, went through into their arms. After almost all of them were shot, the cracks sounded again. Then an arrow flew out from the side – caught Dawn as she turned to me, in her right shoulder, when we were checking they'd all gone. It must have been poisoned, her magic's going crazy, all over the place, and she got so weak really fast. It must have been, most of the damage on her is from the Fyarls, it's nothing above the ordinary – with her powers it'd be healing now, normally. And she… she smells wrong. Her scent's messed up – a normal wound can't do that. We started heading for here – it's nearer than the Council, and there'd be no one there anyway, we're all out tonight. And you guys are magic, and it's her magic that's wrong, I can feel it. Can't you?"

"A little, lad. I can feel it a little."

Professor Dumbledore joined them, the normal ever-present twinkle in his eyes subdued. "Connor, do you know what's happened to her magic? I am not familiar enough with her power to find it, and Madam Pomfrey can only find physical ills. Professor Snape is working on identifying the poison, but that may take longer than we have."

"I think…" Connor felt his voice stick in his throat, but forced the words out, "I think she's losing control."

"Losing control? A witch or wizard can't just lose control of their magic," Remus snarled in response, the wolf coming forward as the man was frozen in shock. Sirius still watched silently over the girl, not moving to restrain his old friend.

"She's not a normal witch. Earth magic… wiccan magic, it needs a hell of a lot of mental control… But she's not even normal for that. Think how much power she has, and her will has been the only thing keeping that power under control, tamped down. That arrow must have driven something into her body to break her control. That's why she's flickering – the power is trying to escape her. We need to calm her… like Willow needs Xander sometimes."

"Who is it she needs?"

Connor slumped, his explanation reaching a sticking point:

"I don't know. It's not Buffy or Faith, they're Champions in their own right; Spike was evil when they met; I know it's not me, I've never been able to calm her down, magically or not. Can't be Willow or Xander; Andrew hasn't been around long enough, Giles is Buffy's support… which means… oh, hell."

"What? Who is it?" Moody cut in.

"Dawn's oldest friend, from Sunnydale. I hate the guy."

"WHO?" Lupin yelled, causing everyone to start.

"It's Nicholas, Nix. But he's somewhere in America. Or Ireland. I don't even know."

"Connor, how do we contact him? Will he be able to get to London?"

"He's one of the Shade, Professor, he can just shift. Hold on a second – NIX! NIX, DAWN NEEDS YOU!"

Soundlessly, a tanned teenage boy appeared in the centre of the room. Taller than any of the other teens, he appeared about seventeen. His dark silver eyes were bright with worry and fear, and snapped onto Connor, who gestured wordlessly to the girl on the couch. One stride of his long legs, and he dropped to his knees next to the sofa, running a hand through his spiked black hair. One bronze hand reached out behind him, towards Connor's chair. When Connor frowned and didn't move, the newcomer sighed and said, the soft Irish accent audible through his frustration:

"Who do you think taught her the memory-scan trick? Give me your wrist so I know what happened!"

Stretching out his arm, Connor felt Nix's hand wrap around his wrist, and then the familiar tugging on his memories begin. Relaxing his mind, and allowing the memory of the fights up to Nix's arrival to come to the fore. Mere seconds later, he felt his wrist being released, and blue and grey eyes shot open.

The kneeling boy leant forward after stripping off his jacket, wrapping one arm behind Dawn's bloodied back, and the other hand reaching to cup her face. He brought as much of her prone body into contact with him as possible, creating skin-to-skin contact if he could. Whispering to her, he stayed totally focused on Dawn, as if unaware of his large audience.

"Hey, beautiful, it's Nix, I'm here, baby. Come back to me, I'm not losing you, open your eyes, don't leave me…"

He repeated the words, over and over to the glowing girl, until finally her eyes slowly opened, flashing pure white to darkest black beneath her lids. For a second, her turquoise irises shone through, as she whispered, pleading:

"Nix…"

"Yeah, Dawnie, it's me, I'm here. Relax, honey, just relax, don't worry, I'm here…"

"It hurts, Nix. So bad…"

"I know, I know, I can make it stop, I swear. Calm down, okay, you're panicking, breathe slowly, it's okay."

"I'm losing it, Nix, I can't…"

"You can, you can. I need you with me, I love you, breathe… Stay with me, please stay with me…"

Her eyes, which had been falling shut, opened wide, the natural turquoise always there, but the colour whitening and darkening as her hair and glow flickered between.

"Hey, there you are… Look at me, only at me, focus, baby. Focus on me."

"Uh huh…"

"Okay, I need you to let go, let the power go, sweetheart. Not all at once, a little at a time, release it slowly. Shape it, give it a purpose, and send it out."

At her weak nod, he continued:

"First, I want you to light the room. Just a little lighter."

As the group watched, the boy – Nix – talked the glowing girl through a series of simple magical tasks, the flickering slowing with each task until it was a gentle fade. He then started to guide her in more taxing magic – healing Connor instantly, healing her own wounds (except her shoulder). Then he started her on a sequence of silly feats – turning the six teens purple, pink and then finally blue before removing the magic. Eventually, the boy finished, the remnants of the glow around Dawn faded away, and she smiled tiredly up at him.

"Nix, I – "

He cut her off, speaking softly, laughing slightly:

"You need to rest, Dawnie."

"You'll be here when I wake up, right?"

"I won't leave you for a second," the boy swore quietly.

The entire room was silent as her eyes shut, her face relaxed and her breathing slowed and evened out. Nix smiled tenderly at her sleeping form, before looking up at Sirius, who had not moved since laying Dawn out, but stayed hovering over Nix's shoulder the entire time. The boy spoke in almost a whisper, so he would not cause Dawn to stir in the slightest:

"Is there somewhere I can take her, so she can sleep on a bed? If she stays here her neck'll hurt when she wakes."

"Of course," the dog Animagus replied, starting forward as if to carry the girl again, but before he could step forward, the teenager had stood, the sleeping Dawn already securely cradled against him.

Not even turning away from the sleeping girl on the bed, Nix spoke to the four Order members who had followed him upstairs.

"I know you want to question me, and I will answer. But after Dawn wakes – I said I wouldn't leave her, and I have no intention of breaking my word."

Without another word, or even waiting for a response, he waved one hand, causing an armchair to slide across the room to the bedside. Settling himself in it, he gazed at Dawn's sleeping face, obviously committing himself to the promised vigil. Behind him, Connor slipped past the four adults (namely Sirius, Remus, Molly and Dumbledore) into the room. Leaning down slightly, he muttered into Nix's ear, at a level only the two supernatural teens could hear.

"I'll keep them from the interrogation as long as I can. Look after her for me."

The other boy's head rose, a trace of amusement in his inky silver eyes.

"One could almost take that as you wanting a truce, Aurealius"

"Temporarily, Selva. Just 'til she wakes up," came the hard reply.

"A temporary truce it is," Nix replied smoothly. As Connor turned to go, Nix smirked, adding in a louder tone:

"And I won't be looking after her for **you**, Aurealius. I'll be looking after her for **me**."

Sighing slightly, Dumbledore turned to leave the room, and after a bit of convincing, Molly followed. Sirius and Remus refused outright to leave their Pixie with only the teenage stranger watching over her. Pulling chairs to her bedside, they sat side by side opposite the boy, joining him in his vigil.

"She is sleeping now, Sirius, Remus and our new guest are staying with her. Severus, how is the antidote coming?"

"Almost complete, Headmaster. Minerva has gone to collect the few remaining ingredients I need, and once she returns, it will take about half an hour more to brew."

"Excellent."

"Professor, will she be alright?"

"I believe so, Harry. The rest will help, and she'll soon have the antidote."

"What about the lad? How did he get in here?" Moody asked, his magical eye fixed on the bedroom above.

"Nicholas has agreed to answer all of our questions, as soon as Miss Potter wakes. It appears he is a man of his word, and so will not leave her side. Until then, I suggest we contact Elizabeth, so she knows her sister is safe."

"I'll call the Council," Connor answered, pulling out his phone, "but I have to warn you, all you're going to get is six panicking Scoobies. More, if the LA group find out."

"So, you're Buffy's old friends, right?"

"How do you know that?" Remus asked guardedly, looking up at the boy.

"You feel like werewolf, and you feel like magic, but animal too," Nix answered, looking between the two men. The Shade grinned slightly, before adding, "That, and you look like the pictures."

The flippant addition made both men laugh quietly, relaxing a little.

"Yes, we are. I'm Sirius, and the suspicious one is Remus," was the reply, which caused the werewolf to reach out and cuff the Animagus around the head.

"Nicholas Selva," the teenage responded, smiling slightly, "but call me Nix, I'll actually answer to that."

"You know the Pixie – Dawn – from Sunnydale?"

"Yeah. I moved there a year ahead of the Summers', when I was nine. I grew up in Ireland, though, as you can tell. I looked out for her – both outsiders, you see. The little girl from LA and the Irish boy, with the weird accent."

"You were friends?"

"Best friends – from the beginning, or almost. I lived just down the road, so Mrs. Summers would drive me and Dawnie to school, before dropping Buffy at Sunnydale High."

"Wait, Nicholas **Selva**? As in, the Shade royal family?"

Nix winced, clearly this was a sore subject.

"Can I explain later? If you've recognised the name, I'm guessing someone else here will, and I'd really rather explain to everyone together. I don't like talking about it."

"Alright," the werewolf responded, before beginning to ask the boy about seven years of Dawn's life they had missed, and telling Nix of four year old Dawn, and such stories – many including the equally young Fred and George Weasley.

A/N: Tell me what you think of Nix, guys! x


	41. The NonSpanish Inquisition

Sirius' Bedroom, Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, 3 hours later.

"…and somehow they'd managed to catch Prongs coming in from flying, and he was just _covered_ in bright yellow paint – not even magically, just with a bucket over the door. And the bucket landed on his _head_, and when he pulled it off and started glaring at the three of them…. And Lily telling him he should have told them so many pranking stories…"

Sirius descended into laughter, joining Remus and Nix in near-hysterics. The three had been trading stories about the girl on the bed for three hours, and had established a basic trust. No more had been said about the boy's parentage, or his rather unorthodox – to avoid the use of the word 'impossible' – entrance into the Black Family's ancestral home. After the first hour, Order members had stopped coming to remind them to all go downstairs as soon as Dawn woke, and so they had been undisturbed for the latter two. Just as their laughter began to calm – usually the signal for another story to begin – they fell suddenly silent, noticing the girl stirring slightly.

Snuggling her face into the pillow, Dawn then relaxed, before blinking sleepily, the natural colouring of her eyes thankfully restored.

"Hey, beautiful," Nix's voice spoke from one side of her, while the voices of her sister's old friends spoke in unison from the other, with their own:

"Hello, Pixie."

"How long have I been out?"

"Only three hours," Remus answered, soothingly.

"Nix, how did you – "

"Ah, you'll have to wait a few minutes for that – we've been waiting for you to wake up," Nix answered, chuckling softly.

"You've been here three hours, with no explanation?" Dawn questioned, sitting up in the bed, "Nix!"

"Sorry, sweetheart, I promised not to leave you!"

"You could have told them in here, couldn't you?" the girl scolded lightly, before realisation hit: "Nix… where are my clothes? I was **not** wearing your shirt."

"Did you want to sleep in bloodstained, ripped gear?" the boy shot back, one eyebrow raised. When she didn't reply, he continued: "Thought as much. Now, shut it and switch into something of yours. Well, unless you want to wander around in my old shirt?"

Childishly poking her tongue out at the boy, Dawn muttered something unintelligible (or to Remus and Sirius at least), and the faded hunter green shirt she was wearing was replaced by a thin cotton t-shirt of the same shade, and faded blue jeans. Slipping out of bed, and reaching for the matching ballet flats that had appeared next to the bed, Dawn spoke again.

"How did you stall for three hours, anyway?"

"Never underestimate a puppet show?" the boy tried, before laughing at her pointed look: "Actually, Connor's been running interference. I know, shocker, huh?"

"You and Connor are working together? Co-operating? Is the world ending? 'Cause I'm pretty sure that has to be a sign of the apocalypse…" Dawn replied in disbelief, before standing. Nix snorted softly, seeing the basic truth behind the words – in all honesty, the most likely time for the two teenage males to team up would be in apocalyptic circumstances, and even then, they probably wouldn't actually be friendly. They barely managed civility, half the time.

As she began to walk to the door, she was intercepted by Nix bowing deeply, and offering an arm. Rolling her eyes, but laughing, at his antics, Dawn linked her arm with his, and allowed him to lead her from the room. The two Marauders followed behind, nostalgia filling them briefly: how many times had one of them – usually James, but sometimes one of them – offered an arm to their Princess, even just to walk to class?

"So, time for the Spanish Inquisition, huh?"

"I thought nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition? So it can't be, it can be an inquisition, but not a Spanish one."

"Okay, time for the Non-Spanish Inquisition."

The Order members looked vaguely confused, mixed with a little apprehension – after all, this boy had just appeared in the most protected place (after Hogwarts) they knew of, completely untroubled by the feat. And the girl who had just spoken had been surely near to death a little over three hours ago. The six resident teenagers were mainly apprehensive, but beginning to relax – surely he couldn't be evil, is Dawn was joking with him so easily? In contrast, Connor just snorted in amusement, casting his eyes heavenward.

Taking note of the arrangement of seats – all but one in curved rows facing the lone chair on the other side of the room. A wry grin came to the Shade's face, inquisition was right – it looked just like a courtroom!

"I take it this one's mine, then?" he asked, rhetorically, before dropping into the single chair. Sirius and Remus took two of the three chairs left between the Order and the teens, who had been seated off to one side, although in the front row. Dawn looked at the remaining chair, the spot between Remus and Harry clearly meant for her. With a slight wry smile of her own, she caused the chair to skid across the floor, neatly stopping next to Nix. She seated herself, staring defiantly at the Order members, and sending an amused wink to Harry.

Murmurs broke out across the room, both at Nix's easy calmness, Dawn's wordless display of support and power, and the look of surprise on the boy's face as it happened. Clearly, they had not planned this.

"Good evening – or, given the time, I should say good _morning_, Mr…?" Dumbledore began, smiling benignly at the two black-haired teens. After an almost imperceptible glance at the girl at his side, Nix pushed his ingrained politeness to the fore:

"Selva, Headmaster, Nicholas Selva. It's an honour to meet you, having heard so much from Dawn and Buffy."

Whispers once again filled the room, all three Americans forcing back smirks – with considerably more effort from Connor and Dawn. Enhanced hearing could certainly be useful at times… they could hear every word spoken. One voice rose above the others, the slow drawl unmistakable:

"Odd… I barely recall a word being said about you…"

Nix merely smiled blandly, supremely unconcerned.

"Perhaps you'll explain what I mentioned upstairs?" Remus put in, "Aren't the Selva family Shade royalty?"

More mutters.

"Yes, my grandfather is Calfrey Selva II, the current ruler of our people. My father was the younger of his two sons, Erenor."

"Was?" Arthur asked, leaning forward.

"My father died when I was four, closely followed by his elder brother. Uncle Alexis was the heir to the throne, and died unmarried and childless. As the oldest surviving blood relative, that left me in line. My mother saw the pressure my grandparents were going to put on me – to learn how to rule, as well as all the etiquette, law, history and so on I'd been learning. She tried to take me and my younger sister, Eleanora, out of New York, away from our grandparents, but their guards caught us. They captured Eleanor, but she never wanted to leave, anyway. Mother took me to Ireland, where I grew up and little Eleanora grew up in NYC. We stayed in Ireland until I was nine, when my mother was forced to strike a deal with Calfrey… she was working two jobs just to keep her afloat – Shades are trained at home, most have no real qualifications. We were running out of money, barely scraping by, and my grandparents couldn't find a loophole to skip me and pass the crown to Eleanora. They needed my mother to agree to bring me nearer to home, and she needed the money, so they said we'd have full access to her money, and the family fortune, so long as we moved back to the States. Mother refused flat out to live in New York again, wanted to keep me away from the power circles there. She chose the Hellmouth, so we wouldn't be easy to find – there's a long history of assassination attempts on any heirs to throne. A year later, the Summers' family moved to town, and I became friends with Dawn." Nix finished, relaxing slightly when a familiar slim hand squeezed his.

Reassuring her by returning the light pressure, he dropped her hand – albeit reluctantly. Over the years and the pain Sunnydale had offered, the two teenage 'outsiders' had become very close, often curling up together on the sofa, or walking hand-in-hand. It was a classic case of keeping the people you love close – a bond form in one of the places that losing sight of someone could mean finding them dead, or irrevocably changed. Somewhere along the line, he had become used to Dawn's presence so fully, that in the months since he had left Sunnydale – pulled out by his by-then sick mother – his hand had felt strangely empty without her smaller one in it.

"You're… you're royalty? A prince?" Hermione couldn't restrain herself from asking, both she and the youngest Weasley looking vaguely star-struck. Then again, it's not every day a girl meets a real live prince, is it?

"Technically, a Crown Prince," Dawn replied, smirking slightly.

"If I may interrupt this _fascinating_ topic?" Snape cut across, sneering slightly.

"Now, Severus," Albus admonished, before beginning the questions:

"Mr. Aurelius identified you as one of the Shade, and you have since confirmed it… I find I am not sure of the term, although it stirs something in my mind… Perhaps you could enlighten me?" Dumbledore sat back, his fingers steepled before him.

Pulling on the royal decorum that had been instilled in him since birth, Nix answered:

"We are more commonly known as Shadow-walkers, or Shadow-casters, as our power is so – "

"Shadow-casters are notoriously Dark, Headmaster – " Snape attempted to interject, but Nix cut him off, defensive but unerringly polite:

"That is a misconception, Professor. The power of my people comes from the Shadows, which in themselves are not good or evil, as nothing is. Only the intentions of those who use them. The Shade are seen as Dark as the shadows our power originated from form darker patches, and because we do not renounce all the Ancient Magic as you would. Blood rituals are used in some regularity, partially because while you have developed more straightforward magic over the centuries, your world has guarded it jealously, and we are left with what has gone before."

"And is that how you arrived here? Using the Forbidden Magic? Through countless protections and wards?"

"No, shifting is a natural talent of my people, the original basis for your Apparition, I believe, if Buffy explained it to me correctly. It's soundless, instantaneous, and a way to move through the dimensions or simply inside a dimension. You may know it as 'shadow-walking', as you seem to know the more _derogatory_ terms, Professor. So called as my ancestors enjoyed the reaction to seeming to merely step into shadow and disappear, or appear from one. It actually led to the belief that we simply walked from one shadow to another, and could not travel outside of them. Nonsense, of course. As for the enchantments, I presume they were laid upon the house?"

At the aged Headmaster's nod, Nix continued:

"In which case, I did not break through your wards, but by-passed them, exploiting a loophole. The spellwork will be focused on protecting the house from outsiders, and I did not shift to the house, I shifted to Dawn, following her magical signature. Therefore, I was untroubled by the protections."

Watching him carefully from the corner of her eye, Dawn could see the tension building up in Nix as first he talked about his blood family, and later the ways of the Shade. It wasn't tangible, yet, or even obvious, but years of friendship had left her able to read him as well as any of the Scoobies. Knowing that he would shrug off a comforting hand, she allowed a tendril of her magic to reach out to his own, calming it. The Shade's face relaxed minutely, almost imperceptibly. Dawn half-listened as Dumbledore began to speak, assuring the Order that he was satisfied with the explanation. The following sentence brought her to alertness: the Order meeting was to continue, meaning both Connor and Nix, along with the other teens had to leave. Connor sent her a eye-roll, and she knew he was marvelling at the Order's insistence on excluding the teenagers – it was very un-Scooby-like. Nix's look was more questioning, and Dawn forced back her desire to laugh at his concern. Responding in the usual wordless manner, one side of her mouth lifted into a half-smile, before shoving his shoulder playfully. Taking the hint, the Shade prince stood, kissing the top of her head as he left after Connor. The four Weasleys, Harry and Hermione followed, all scowling at their exclusion.

As soon as all the adults had stood, a flick of Dumbledore's wand restored the kitchen furniture to their usual positions. Suddenly unsure of herself, Dawn hung back as the Order members all began to take seats. Noticing her hesitance, Remus purposefully took the chair next-but-one to Sirius, causing the other man to frown until he realised why. Gesturing for Dawn to sit between them, Remus turned back to the table. He laid his parchment on the table, and pulled out a quill, and then proceeded to watch the other members prepare for the meeting. Dumbledore sat at the head of the table, smiling serenely; Molly frowned slightly, clearly not yet comfortable with the inclusion of seventeen-year-old Dawn, Council member or not. Sirius leaned back in his chair, swinging on the back legs as he had done ever since first year; Snape glared at Sirius, obviously hoping that he would fall off the chair. Dawn mutter something unintelligible, and flicked her wrist in front of her. A satchel appeared, and from inside she pulled out a white box-shaped thing, opened it, and pressed one of the many buttons. Apparently, the youngest Potter sibling would be forgoing the traditional parchment and quill – or even paper and pen – the rest of the Order favoured.

"Is that a compluterer?" Arthur Weasley could not resist asking.

"It's a laptop computer, yeah," Dawn answered, "I just find it easier, and quicker. And it has all my Council files on it."

Dumbledore cleared his throat, before standing as silence fell across the room. He surveyed them all over his half-moon glasses, and said gravely:

"I now declared this meeting of the Order of the Phoenix in session. Our first concern is the attitude of the Ministry. Kingsley, any insight?"


	42. Strike and CounterStrike

A/N: Sorry it's been a while - this chapter just did not want to come out! As previously stated, we're coming to the end of the Fifth Marauder, couple more chapters to go methinks. Enjoy, and review! x

One day later, Ministry of Magic, in the Office of the Minister for Magic:

"Cornelius?" Dolores Umbridge, Senior Under-secretary to the Minister, asked, as she stepped through the door to the office. The squat, toad-like woman held in her hands a number of thick folders, all filled with newspaper clippings, sheets of parchment covered in notes, and official Ministry documents. Each was labelled in the Undersecretary's own flowery script, the topmost reading 'Harry Potter'. Beneath that, there were files for 'Elizabeth Potter', 'Dawn Potter', 'Potter Vaults and Properties', and 'Potter Holdings', amongst others.

"Yes, Dolores?" the Minister answered, glancing up from the pile of parchments in front of him. Realising it was time for _that_ meeting, Fudge twirled his lime-green bowler hat in his hands, in a pitiful attempt to conceal his nervousness.

"I have the files, and the latest missive from Miss Potter – why they had to turn up now, just when we had nearly discredited the brat, is beyond me."

"Now, now, Dolores, it isn't all bad – the return of the Potter sisters will look good for the Ministry, and me. After all, the Prophet prints what I want it to print!"

The toad-woman shuffled the files she had just placed on the oak desk, taking a seat as she did so. Pulling one file out of the stack, she opened it and passed it to Fudge.

"Not anymore it won't – the Potter family have always owned the majority of the Prophet, and it looks as though Elizabeth has been reminding them of that. This is to run in tomorrow's edition."

She passed over another folder, this time open to a press cutting, with the headline: "Our Sincere Apologies, To Mr Harry Potter".

Fudge blanched, suddenly his affability had vanished. His control of the Prophet had been crucial in his smear campaign, and with the newspaper changing its tune his control would undoubtedly slip.

Although at least he'd gotten Dumbledore out of the system – both the Wizengamot and the International Confederation had thrown the elderly Headmaster from their ranks due to his urging. Then again, would a Potter be any better? Fudge couldn't be sure if the backlash the Prophet's article would create would be worth it.

"Has Miss Potter petitioned for the family seat yet?"

"Yesterday, with a completed St. Mungo's evaluation. There's no way we can block her, the public is too happy that she and the sister have returned to us."

Fudge felt his last hope die. Even the boy's trial would be affected – he couldn't be anywhere near as hard on the boy, not with his Aunt on the panel. And damn it all, he could almost guarantee the boy would have proper representation, and a case all prepared. He'd been banking on the boy seeming delusional, and easy to incite – all the better to prove his 'wild and unbalanced' press. No, the entire plan would have to change.

"We cannot even suggest she doesn't worry herself with the full load of leading the family too soon – the petition explicitly asked for the seat to be held by both sisters. By sharing the seat, the eldest Miss Potter also covers the possibility of timing clashes."

"Dolores," the Minister interrupted, scowling, "do you have _any_ good news for me?"

"The younger sibling, Dawn, has been entered for both OWLs and sixth year examinations. I was able to push them as far forward humanly possible – she will be notified today, and her first examination will be in two days. Both levels of test for each subject will be sat in one day: meaning the girl will have four per day, and with no clear days in the middle. Of course, all so we can have them marked and returned to her before Hogwarts needs her results," Umbridge smiled, looking more frog-like than ever, "Two other students have been entered into the same examinations: Connor Aurelius and Nicholas Selva. Neither boy has any confirmed magical bloodline, but both are friends of young Miss Potter."

"Excellent, Dolores! The last thing we need is another Potter at Hogwarts, and to keep her friends out as well… genius."

The Teenagers' Lounge, Number Ten, Grimmauld Place. The Same Day.

"Two days," Connor scowled, throwing the now-crumpled letter away from him, "they're giving us two freaking days?! They're mental."

"No, Con, they're smart," Dawn contradicted softly, "They don't want us to pass. The Ministry – Fudge, I'm guessing – don't want Harry to have too much support. It'd be too easy for him to convince everyone he's not lying."

"So they're trying to keep us three out of Hogwarts. If you think about it, it's actually really clever," Nix mused.

"Except they don't expect us to have a chance of passing, which we do," Dawn added, smirking.

"About that…" the twins said in unison, both draping their arms over the three Scooby teens and leading them over to the longest sofa. Once the three were all seated, Fred and George loomed over them, with Ginny and the Golden Trio off to one side, listening in.

Fred started the trade off of speech:

"Out of interest – "

"Just wondering – "

"We were thinking, you see – "

"Did it hurt?" Dawn interrupted, eyebrow raised. The identical redheads glared at her for a second before Fred continued:

"Well, yes, a little – "

" – but that's not the point! The point, my dear Miss Potter – "

" – is we can't understand – "

" – how the three of you – "

" – are learning – "

" – six years of school – "

" – in the past two weeks – "

" – when we didn't learn it – "

" – in six years!" the twins finished together.

"And you're not even studying all the time," Hermione added, frowning.

The three teenage supernaturals looked at each other. At least, that was all the four Weasleys, Harry and Hermione saw. In reality, the lounge was filled with mental voices.

There's no way we're talking ourselves out of this, is there? Connor sighed.

We could use the 'supernatural minds are faster and stronger' approach. I mean, it's technically true. Nix suggested.

If any of them looked it up – and Hermione just might – they'd know it doesn't work that way. Our instincts and recall are better, but six years in two weeks? It's impossible. Well, with standard book-learning anyway. Dawn replied.

So what do you suggest? Nix asked, complete with mental eye roll.

We tell them the truth. Came the calm response.

WHAT?!?

ARE YOU MENTAL?!?

Dawn winced internally at the boys' mental shouts.

We tell them the truth. We're not breaking any rules, and Dumbledore knows. It's just … an alternative learning method. And Connor, as far as I know, I am almost perfectly sane.

It's the almost that worries me, Sunrise.

Yeah, yeah. Now, we telling?

Do we have a choice, Dawnie? Nix put in sarcastically.

No, not really. the girl replied blithely, sending both boys a mental grin.

Fine. Nix groaned.

If this goes wrong, I'm blaming you. Connor answered in all seriousness.

You always say that! Dawn shot back indignantly.

It's always your fault. Connor countered before the connection broke.

"Well, we… um, we…" Dawn started.

"Are you actually lost for words? That **has** to be a first," Harry grinned.

"I'm working out how to put this, thank you very much," she answered, mock glaring.

"You know, telling the truth was your idea, love. I was all for the deceit and immorality, but no…" Nix put in, accent thickening.

"We've been… absorbing the information, I guess. Only literally. Nix or I will absorb a text book, and then transfer it onto everyone's minds. It takes about 5 minutes per book. We do half a year's worth after patrol each night, and while we sleep the information just … slots into place. All the work we've had to do is a quick test of all the spells, and a test run of some of the potions from each year to check we haven't missed anything. We've just got the second half of sixth year left. We've even been absorbing all the different options, so we can choose after our results."

"You're… you're not even studying? But that… that's CHEATING!" Hermione exclaimed. The three Scooby teens resisted the urge to back up – and Nix muttered:

"Hell hath no fury…"

This only had the effect of turning the glare directly on him. Dawn and Connor suppressed sniggers as the Shade Prince recoiled minutely. Hermione continued to rant, and after a minute, Dawn cut in:

"Hermione, I know it's not right, per se, but it's also not against any rules or laws – I checked – and Professor Dumbledore knows."

"That doesn't make it right, Dawn! It's completely unfair and immoral!"`

"We had no other option!" Connor exploded, pushing himself upright. "Even if the exams were at the end of the summer, it would have been impossible!"

This time it was Hermione who recoiled, faced with the furious Destroyer. As he opened his mouth again, moving forward at the same moment, Connor was suddenly and inexplicably thrown across the room and into a wall. He slid onto the floor and looked up, his murderous glared settling on Nix. The Shade grinned sheepishly, dropping his outstretched hand to his side.

"Yeah, I didn't mean to throw you that hard…"

Before Connor could react, Dawn almost snarled:

"If you hadn't, I would have."

"Dawn…" Nix cautioned, as Connor became visibly more angry, if that were possible. When neither responded, he tried a different tack, and focussed on the other problem. "Hermione, we know it's wrong, but we honestly have no choice. We're going to be needed at Hogwarts, and not just to support Harry – the reason the Ministry want to keep us out. To keep the school safe. Buffy says that as Voldemort gathered more power last time, more demons joined him. Word in the underworld is that he's calling in old allies, and building up his demon ranks all over again. He wants to use them to weaken Hogwarts this year, reckons they'll be able to get past the wards –and they will. The Forbidden Forest's always got a few demons in it. The three of us need to be there to fight them. There really was no other way, and we've all sworn to Dumbledore that we'll sit this year as normally as we can. Nothing short of an apocalypse just before exams is going to get us out of studying."

Harry and the Weasleys held their collective breath, while Nix and Hermione held each other's eyes. Connor scowled from the armchair he'd flung himself into. Dawn glared at him, resisting the urge to start one of their previously epic fights.

"You've promised Professor Dumbledore?" Hermione questioned after a pause.

"We offered to take the Unbreakable Vow, but he said it wasn't necessary," Nix responded, smiling slightly.

"Alright then," Hermione acquiesced, sitting down. Ron and Harry raised their eyebrows at each other, both wondering if that was the closest the brunette girl had ever come to an apology.


	43. Loop

"Just stay calm, and tell the truth. Stick to the facts and it'll be fine," Buffy reminded Harry, straightening her Wizengamot robes. Flicking her new wand – she still missed her original, even though it had been years since she'd accidentally shattered it by trying to cast a spell over the Hellmouth (apparently wands were just too focussed) – her long blonde hair secured itself into a neat ponytail. "Now, what are you wearing?"

"This?" the boy replied, confused. The eldest Slayer looked at his too large t-shirt, frayed jeans and school outer robe. She and Dawn had decided to replace his entire wardrobe for his birthday, but she'd assumed he wore the oversized clothes around Grimmauld Place and the Council for comfort, as Xander did. She'd never dreamed he had nothing else. _One more thing against 'Petty',_ she thought viciously, remembering Lily's old nickname for her sister. _Looks like it still fits._

"Dawn?" Buffy called out, and in less than five seconds the girl had thrown herself down on the bed next to Harry.

"What's the dire?" she asked, pushing her black curls out of her face.

"Harry needs better clothes. We're giving him part of his present now – go."

All Harry saw was a black-topped blur, starting before Buffy even finished. A minute later, the blur dropped a pile of clothes in his lap, and headed back the way it had come, the door closing behind it followed by a yell of "I'll be ready in five!"

Harry looked at the pile of fabric. Seeing his aunt's raised eyebrows, he went into her bathroom to change.

"Bin the old ones if you want! You're getting a whole new wardrobe, kid!" Buffy yelled after him.

Half an hour later, the three Potters stepped out of the Council owned limo opposite a familiar grand hotel. Buffy led the way in her plum Wizengamot robes, followed by the taller teenagers, with Harry slightly in front of the silver-robed Dawn. Once they were stood inside the lift, Harry looked up at his two aunts – banned as he was from actually calling them 'Aunt' – and tugged nervously on his white shirt.

"Relax, Harry. It'll be fine," Buffy said, smiling softly. Her calming statement was slightly ruined by Dawn adding:

"Come on, how can you lose with your Aunt on the court?" Ignoring the smack in the arm from Buffy, who hated the idea of being old enough to be an Aunt, let alone being anything even remotely like Petunia (Dawn just said it was frankly ridiculous for Harry to call her 'Aunt', as there were only two years between them, and left it at that), she continued. "And anyway, you'll be with me. I basically have a PhD in getting out of trouble."

"Tell that to your school record, Dawn. Never mind your police record."

"Mine's cleaner than yours, Buff. You've been accused of murder, and expelled – twice!"

"Only one expulsion stuck! And the murder thing was so bogus!"

As the sisters bickered, Harry smiled slightly. He was just about getting used to having an actual family who cared about him around – even if his was very weird. With Buffy, Dawn and the rest of the Scoobies, he, the Boy-Who-Lived, was normal – or at least, a freak among freaks.

Unfortunately, Harry's smile was only temporary. As the lift doors opened and his aunts stopped arguing, everything suddenly became serious again. Buffy led the way, and as Dawn fell in behind him, he was almost overwhelmed with the sense of being guarded. He sent Dawn a panicked glance, and thankfully, she drew forward to walk by his side. The two teenagers stopped a little way back from the desk, as Buffy spoke to the receptionist. Dawn smiled briefly at him, a genuine smile, not her usual half-smile, grin or smirk. She reached out and straightened his black robes on his shoulders.

"You **will** be fine," she told him firmly. Later, he'd wonder (and be right) if she'd used some wandless, motionless magic in her voice to reassure him, to calm him enough to enter the courtroom with his head held high. At that moment, he was just comforted.

Buffy watched from the family seat as Harry was led in, Dawn at his side. She caught the sharp look her sister threw at the chains as they moved threateningly towards Harry's arms. She also spotted the almost imperceptible focussing of her eyes on the chains, a second before they dropped down to hang lifelessly, well away from Harry's arms. Buffy considered mentally signalling Dawn to stop interfering, but that was before she saw annoyance flash across her sister's features, and felt the momentary wave of outright fury.

She glanced around quickly, before hesitantly sending out her thoughts:

Dawnie? What's wrong?

Sorry, Buff. Even mentally, she sounded tired and strained. My emotions got away from there.

You need to learn to control it, Dawnie. You know your powers are emotional – and it makes you unstable!

I know, I know. How bad was it?

Strong as hell – but luckily everyone's so worked up about Harry being on trial, no one seems suspicious. What set you off, anyway?

There's a blanket spell over the room – amongst the wards and things. To heighten emotions, impair logic and judgement – with a twist of rule-loving in the mix. They're rigging the trial. Dawn's mental voice almost growled in Buffy's head. Clearly, the spell was strong enough to cause a problem. Still, the blonde tried to remain calm.

It is old? Could just be a part of the court, Dawnie.

Fresh – as in, last night or this morning. It has to be to mess with Harry's trial.

Can you -

Remove it? Yeah, but I need time. I'll have to weave it out without damaging the wards – luckily, the rule-loving means I'm safe to stay. We need to spin the trial out.

How? I can't, I'd be accused of trying to swing the vote, especially under this spell, Harry's too nervous and not used to the system, and you'll need to concentrate to defuse the spell safely.

A mental sigh of relief escaped her younger sister. Before she could ask, a response filled Buffy's head.

Dumbledore. He just entered the Ministry, and I'll bet money he's on his way down here.

How do you -

Power level like that? Definitely pops up on my magical radar. Now shush, we're starting.

Buffy sat back, stunned. They were far beneath the Atrium, and surrounded by thousands of enchantments – including those to mask identity, reduce power and prevent spying. And yet, somehow, her little sister could bypass them effortlessly? It barely seemed possible. Then again, she mused, since when did the word "impossible" apply to the Scooby gang?

Buffy came out of her thoughts in time to hear Fudge question Dawn's presence. Though routine if the accused was underage, Buffy was aware of the whole court seeming to lean forward expectantly.

"My nephew is underage, Minister. It is his right to have a guardian in attendance."

"You are only seventeen yourself, Miss Potter. Nor, if I remember rightly, are you his legal guardian."

"Actually, Minister, the form arrived this morning. I have it here, signed by myself and my sister as joint guardians. I believe that makes it magically and legally binding, does it not? And with my sister sat on the court, I am here as guardian. My being seventeen still has no bearing on the matter, as I am nevertheless of age."

"May I see the parchment, Miss Potter?" Amelia Bones responded, and when Dawn stepped forward to hand it to her, she muttered a spell, making the signatures flash blue. "It is authentic. Miss Potter's claim of guardianship is allowed."

Buffy held back a triumphant grin as Fudge's face fell. Fortunately, she was saved by the entrance of the mass of vibrantly clashing colours that was Albus Dumbledore. She suppressed a laugh as he calmly dealt with Fudge's blather, and relaxed when she saw him look sharply over Harry at Dawn, before saying vaguely:

"Must have been a fly…"

So Dawn was getting Dumbledore to spin out proceedings, then, Buffy thought. Well, he was certainly managing that – and easily derailing Fudge's arguments. Dumbledore going downhill? Not likely. Buffy almost giggled when the Headmaster offered to summon a house elf called Dobby from Hogwarts, successfully turning Fudge purple. Barely a minute later, she saw Dawn slump in her seat, eyes falling shut. A blast of wind rushed out from the centre of the courtroom, scattering Percy Weasley's parchment rolls. Buffy's eyes shut tightly against the force of the wind. But when they opened, it was not the moment she remembered.

Arabella Figg was stood before the court once more, trembling as she gave her evidence.

"I felt them. Everything went cold, and this was a very warm summer's night, mark you. And I felt… as though all the happiness had gone from the world… and I remembered… dreadful things…"

"What did the Dementors do?"

"They went for the boys. One of them had fallen…"

Oddly, no one else seemed aware that anything unusual had happened, even as Mrs Figg continued to give evidence. There was no sign of the disruption of the wind, or that everything was on repeat. Looking down, she saw Dawn carefully avoiding her eyes, but encouraging Harry, her hand resting on his forearm. Buffy's hand went to her head subconsciously, and it was only when her neighbour leaned over to her that she became aware that she'd moved.

"Are you well, Elizabeth?" a familiar voice – female, old and with a distinct note of strictness – spoke from her left. Looking over, Buffy realised she'd been so preoccupied that she'd failed to notice who's seat was next to the Potter chair. Augusta Longbottom, the mother of an old friend of the Marauders, who'd been James' mentor in Auror training, was sat there, looking very concerned.

"I'm fine, Mrs Longbottom, just a little worried about Harry. I was so sorry to hear about Frank and Alice. They were good friends."

"Call me Augusta, Elizabeth. We are both adults, and Heads of Families. You mustn't worry about your nephew, dear. That boy is worth more than most people in this room, and they've got no case against him. What's more, I think they know it. He'll be fine."

Buffy smiled gratefully. It was good to know Harry still had support in the Wizarding World. She glanced around the room once more, curious as to how many other familiar faces she'd missed, and her eyes fell on a face she'd have been happy to never see again. Lucius Malfoy sat almost directly opposite her in the tiered semi-circle of seats, an all-too-familiar smirk settled on his pale face. Their eyes met momentarily, before his malicious smirk deepened, and he dropped his gaze to rest upon Dawn. Buffy locked her muscles into place and repressed the growl that threatened to escape her as her Slayer side raged. Lucius Malfoy had better stay the hell away from her family, or she'd find out exactly how many times she'd have to hit him to wipe that smirk off his face.

In an attempt to calm herself, Buffy swung her eyes a place to the right to were the seat that was rightfully Sirius' should be, so she could imagine how sessions would be when he was acquitted. Instead, she found herself fighting to keep control once again. Sitting in the Black family seat – Sirius' seat – was the smugly smiling Narcissa Malfoy. It seemed she had managed to grasp the family seat and vote with Sirius unlawfully incarcerated, and despite his semi-freedom, had managed to hold onto it. As the two women's eyes connected, Buffy sated the Slayer by offering up a silent challenge – Sirius **will** have his rightful seat. An answering icy determination was all she got in return.

Dawn sat in the kitchen of Number 12, watching the twins and Ginny's war dance. Harry was sat between Hermione and Ron – apparently they'd had yet another fight while they'd been gone – and finally smiling. The curly-haired Potter smiled, it looked as though her little tricks had gone unnoticed after the loop…

"Dawn." Her sister's voice – unusually stern – rang out from behind her, cutting through the celebrations. The room went quiet, and Dawn resisted the urge to swear.

"I need a word."

"Now? It's a party, Buff." Risky, especially when her sister was in this mood. Then again, Dawn thought rebelliously, she'd done nothing wrong for once.

"Dawn. Now. Or do you want to do this here?"

"Whatever," Dawn muttered, getting up. She shook her head infinitesimally at Nix and Connor when they both went to rise, and heard her sister's footsteps follow her to the door. As the heavy door fell shut behind them, Dawn heard conversation restart – though much more warily than before.

"So." Buffy began, glaring accusingly at Dawn.

"What?"

"What? You rigged a trial, Dawn!"

"No, I stopped them rigging a trial!"

"You were only supposed to deactivate the spells messing with the trial, nothing else."

"It was too far gone, Buffy. He would have lost, and then what?"

"You don't know that, Dawnie."

"Yes, I do. The second I ended the spell, I realised I was too late. Everyone had made up their minds, and we didn't have enough time to change them."

"So you, what, found more?"

"No, I made a time loop. No one but me, Dumbledore and apparently you remembers the first time round."

"They don't remember? After all we've been through with unplanned memory spells, you just went ahead and did one on a whim?"

"I didn't wipe their minds, Buffy. I rewound time to before people were set. They don't remember the first run because for them, it never happened."

"So, why do I remember? Why does Dumbledore?"

"I mentally told Dumbledore just before I did it, and he asked to be left his full memories – said what I was doing was unprecedented, and he wanted to be able to study it later. As for you, I don't know. You weren't supposed to. Maybe you're too close to me for it to work. Or the Slayer in you stopped it – like a self-defence mechanism. I don't know."

Buffy stayed silent for a minute. Dawn refused to drop her gaze. Despite Buffy's obvious disapproval, she was convinced she'd done the right thing. She let the trial take its rightful course, as if the spells had never been set. She'd done what had to be done to keep Harry free.

"Does Harry remember?" Buffy asked quietly.

"No. He doesn't know anything about it."

"Keep it that way. I don't approve of what you did, Dawn. And I'm definitely not happy with your magic usage. But Harry can never know."

"I'm not stupid, Buff." Dawn ignored the snort, and continued. "If Harry had been convicted, our side would be screwed. I did the right thing – you'll see that eventually."

"Really, Dawn? I don't think I will."

With that parting shot, Buffy reopened the door to the kitchen. And froze. Neither of the sisters had noticed the silence behind the door as they spoke.

Finally, Buffy unfroze.

"So, you heard then."

"Every word," Sirius confirmed, his eyes flicking between the two of them.

Dawn steeled herself, raising her chin defiantly as she looked around the room. The adults seemed disapproving – no surprises there – except Sirius, who looked oddly proud. Harry looked so lost and confused her heart almost broke for him. Hermione was a perfect replica of Mrs. Weasley's disbelief and outright disapproval. Ginny just looked shocked, while the twins looked somewhat impressed. Ron, however, was the real surprise. He was the only one apart from Sirius to really hold her eyes, and in his she saw only cool acceptance. She couldn't tell if he approved, but she knew he understood. Looking over to Nix and Connor, she saw nothing unexpected. From the Destroyer, she got approval and acceptance. From Nix, it was all warmth, and the feeling he would have done the exact same thing. Well, at least some people seemed to see it her way.


	44. Rule One

A/N: Oh my gosh. I am so very, very sorry for the delay. Unfortunately, life once again got in the way of writing, and the pressures of A Levels and university applications took over my life. I would like to thank everybody for being so patient (hopefully you haven't all left!), as you so often hear of writers being harassed for updates. This will be a double update, and the next chapter forms the end of The Fifth Marauder. This story was only ever the precursor to an entire series, as I felt so much needed to be explained that I could not cover more than the summer in the first installment. The sequel, entitled This Year's Girl, will be posted ASAP, as I'm already part way through the first chapter, and once they arrive at Hogwarts, the ball really starts rolling and my writing should pick up momentum (I hope).

Anyway, the real point is: I OWN NOTHING, EXCEPT MY IDEA AND NIX. Enjoy :)

Dawn stared around the room in silence, her brain whirring. Of course, they'd heard everything, and now what? Could she talk them around? Should she just run – or use the Pendant to lie low in L.A. for a while? No, going to L.A. would get her in more trouble than she was apparently in. She forcibly repressed the urge to roll her eyes. She'd done the right thing – the only thing – dammit! She shook herself mentally, half-wondering why it was that she'd fought multiple apocalypses, and yet this still scared her. Oh yeah, because if she failed this time, she had to deal with the consequences. Didn't really have that problem with failing to avert the apocalypse, mainly because you'd be dead, Dawn thought sarcastically.

"So, you heard it all then?" she asked, stalling for a little time. No one answered, so she muttered, "Okay, tough crowd."

Clearing her throat, she made the snap decision to direct her explanation to Harry. He was the one who's future she'd altered – set back on course, really – and so he was the one who deserved the explanation.

"When we went into the courtroom, I sensed a fresh layer of spells, all designed to alter the court's opinions. Judging by how recent they were – either early this morning or later last night – they had to have been set to mess with your trial, Harry. I was able to communicate to Buffy and Professor Dumbledore what I'd sensed, and the Headmaster agreed to spin out the trial to give me time to take them down, making the trial fair again. But because of all the original and necessary spellwork and wards on the room, it took longer than we had to weave the new ones out. By the time I was finished, everyone had formed their biased opinions under the influence of the spells. So I… rewound time by creating a loop, taking the entire room back to Mrs. Figg's testimony, with no memory of the first run. Only I would remember, and Professor Dumbledore, as he said he'd like to study my abilities at a later date. And apparently, Buffy remembers too."

"I would have lost?" Harry questioned, looking at her in disbelief.

"Yes. The spells stopped people from forming a natural, logical decision, and gave them all a skewed perspective of you."

"And you took away the spells?" Remus clarified.

"Yes. I didn't bias them, I just took away the influencing factors. And rewound time."

"So they voted as they would have done under normal circumstances?" Hermione asked shrewdly.

"Yes. I didn't alter their consciousness further than the memory wipe, and that only happens because without a protective magical layer, the mind can't hold two separate versions of events as fact."

"Like a time-turner – it creates a barrier, so you can remember both timelines. But how did you keep the spells removed?"

"A handy little trick called 'Foris Vicis'," Dawn answered, "it holds certain factors outside of time itself. Not to be used lightly, but incredibly useful."

"Thank you." The two words were barely audible, but those with increased senses heard them easily. Dawn smiled gently, hugging Harry, and murmuring in his ear:

"Any time."

"Just because Harry's okay with what you did, it doesn't mean you're out of trouble," Buffy warned semi-sternly, holding back a smile seeing them interact as a family should. Harry was getting used to the whole 'we're your family and we love you' thing.

"But will you stop pretending that me **technically** breaking a couple of laws to stop them being broken is the reason you're mad at me?" Dawn asked, fixing her turquoise gaze on her older sister.

"What's that supposed to mean?" the blonde Slayer returned, a little too quickly.

"Buffy, we both know why you're worried. It's not because I'm bending the rules. It's because you don't trust me enough to think I can handle the magicks," Dawn shot back, just a little bitterly. Buffy had always done this, doubting her and never giving her a chance to prove what she could do. And just when she thinks that things are different, Super-Buffy has to act like she's a toddler with a stolen wand and no concept of how to use it.

"Dawnie, I – " her sister started, but the younger girl cut her off, saying forcefully:

"No. You need to understand that I know what I'm doing, and I'm in control. I'm not over-using the magicks, and I'm not about to lose control and snap. Just because it happened to Willow, it doesn't mean that every single person who uses is a ticking time bomb. I was there, I learnt from it, and I won't go down that road. So stop looking at me as if one more spell could send me off the rails. I. Am. Not. About. To. Go. Dark."

"I'm sorry, go dark?" Sirius cut in, looking between the two sisters in confusion.

"Lose control, get addicted, start playing with Dark Magicks," Dawn clarified slightly sarcastically, without breaking the staring match she was having with Buffy.

"I worry, okay?" Buffy said softly, looking down. "My little sister has access to powers I can barely comprehend, and I've seen how badly it can go wrong. I just worry."

"I know," Dawn answered, the fight leaving her temporarily. Getting Buffy to admit it was a massive leap in the right direction. "But you don't need to. I know what I'm doing," she repeated.

"You do. And that terrifies me," Buffy confessed, before lightening the mood with a joking: "My little sister's growing up."

"Didn't really have a choice," Dawn murmured softly, looking out of the window.

Sensing the tense situation dissipating, Nix couldn't resist:

"You used 'Foris Vicis'? And it worked? On a large scale, I mean? We only ever used it on little things, and there was never the opportunity to – "

"Obviously it worked, or we wouldn't have just had that conversation," Dawn returned, rolling her eyes at the Shade princeling.

"How many things were you holding in place?" he questioned eagerly, as the two of them moved towards the door.

"Two mind-shields – standard, we always did it so the two of us would remember – three blockers in place of the mind-altering spells, and working the time loop at the same time," she answered, grinning.

"So three extras and a massive loop? Impressive," Nix replied, as he pulled the door open.

"Not so fast, you two!" Buffy called, and they spun around on the stop, innocent faces slipping into place.

"What?" they asked innocently, years of practice showing themselves.

"You aren't getting away with it that easily, missy," Buffy said sternly, going into Older-Sister mode. Two pairs of eyes rolled in response.

"Precisely what am I in trouble for?" Dawn queried, holding back a grin.

"Well, for starters, how about breaking a law?"

"Oh, like you've never done that?"

"Or doing something completely unpracticed in a public place, and a highly important situation?"

"Again, not exactly innocent yourself, Buffy."

"How about interfering in a criminal case?"

Dawn just gave a cough that sounded suspiciously like 'Faith'.

"Oh alright!" Buffy cried, throwing her hands up. Dawn smiled triumphantly, before turning to Harry:

"And this is the way discipline will go – if you can prove Buffy's being a hypocrite by yelling at you, you get out of trouble. And there's not much Buffy hasn't done, or at least done something similar to."

"However, we do have some rules," Buffy contradicted, and Dawn laughed, "All of which you will learn later. Now, back to the party?"

"So, house rules…" Buffy started. Harry, Sirius and Remus were sat facing the entire Scooby gang in the Council lounge, having finally convinced Dumbledore that Harry leaving Grimmauld Place would be fine, especially with all the wards and enchantments the resident witches had put in place, as well as a few set by Dumbledore himself. Sirius and Remus, of course, had insisted on moving too.

"Rule the first: don't die," Buffy said seriously.

"Or stay dead, anyway," Xander chipped in, gaining him an eyeroll from the blonde Slayer.

"Rule the second: don't kill humans."

"Unavoidable occasionally, but it's a good general bench mark," Andrew put in, 'helpfully'.

"Third rule: never give up."

"No matter the odds, there is always a solution. The solution may be completely bloody insane, but it's there," Giles added.

"Four: no verbal invites. Five: always carry a weapon. Six: research cannot be avoided."

"Trust me, I've tried," Faith muttered darkly.

"Rule seven: aim weapon first, ask questions later," Buffy continued, shooting the dark-haired Slayer a grin. "Eighth rule: never say 'I wish'. Nine: no making potions in the kitchen. And finally, rule the tenth: don't speak Latin in front of the books."

All the Scoobies turned to look at Xander, who scowled and protested:

"That was one time! How was I supposed to know it'd go on fire?"

"Those are the rules?" Remus looked skeptical.

"Is there a problem with them?" Nix asked, feigning confusion.

"These are the rules you raised Dawn by?" the werewolf continued.

"Hey, they're good rules. I'm alive, aren't I?" Dawn replied, grinning.

"No curfew, nothing about chores, anything?"

"Sounds damn good to me," Sirius muttered, gaining him a smack over the head from Remus.

"Well, no curfew as such… they just all know that whatever time they stay out 'til, they have to get up at the same time. They regulate themselves," Buffy shrugged. "Anyway, when they did have curfew, they just snuck out."

Remus sighed in resignation.

"As for chores, we have an unofficial rota – Dawn, Andy and I do the cooking, as we're the only ones considered to be safe doing it, and we have cleaners. And a dishwasher," Willow answered.

"Anyway, rooms!" Dawn said, seeing that the 'rule' conversation was probably best left there. "Harry, follow us."

The three Scooby teens led him out of the room, Connor lifting his trunk with ease. They took him to the top floor, Dawn grinning and opening the single oak door at the top of the staircase with a flourish.

"Welcome to our world," she and Nix said in unison, causing Connor to roll his eyes.

"Once I knew we were getting custody of you, and these two decided to move in, I convinced the gang to let me redecorate up here. This is our 'common room' of sorts, and our rooms are in each corner. This is generally off-limits to the adults, so we can have our space. They're all below us, and that ladder goes straight into their common room, so we can move between the two if necessary. The other three doors are guestrooms we set up for your friends, so they can stay over whenever," Dawn explained, stepping into the large room. It was a light peach in color, with comfy-looking red and black couches and armchairs. His aunt pulled him over to the door in the far right corner, telling him excitedly to open it, that it was his room. Harry marveled at the idea – a whole room, entirely for him, not shared, or given begrudgingly out of a twisted sense of sacrifice.

The door swung open, revealing a spacious bedroom. The walls were a pale gold, the carpet thick and dark red. His bedding was the same dark red, with rich gold. Gryffindor colors, he thought, grinning. The furniture was pine: a large wardrobe, a chest of drawers, desk and bedside cabinets. Another door was in the far corner. Dawn waved him towards it, and he opened it to see the bathroom, all white porcelain, with fluffy red towels hanging off rails.

"This is mine?" he asked, looking around in disbelief.

"Yeah," Nix shrugged, not realizing how unused to the somewhat lavish furnishings and spaciousness the younger boy would be. Dawn rolled her eyes, and added:

"It's yours, Harry. Just because the Dursleys were dumb and bigoted enough to treat you as they did, it doesn't mean you don't deserve the best."

"Nice décor, by the way," Connor put in with a grin.

"Dawn, I love it," Harry agreed, his smile nearly splitting his face.

"Hey, that wasn't me. That was you, and a little mojo," the girl replied, smirking, "the design changes according to what the occupant prefers. You decide one day that your favorite color is blue? Bam, blue room. But Gryffindor colors is good too."

"So what are the rest of the rooms like?" Harry asked, curiosity evident in his face and tone as the four teens sat down in their private lounge.

"Well, the three guest rooms are awaiting decoration, under the same spell as yours. Ours are too – Connor's seems to have settled on greens and beige, probably because of the whole 'growing up as a wild-boy' thing – " Connor threw a stray cushion at her, which she dodged, and magically sent zooming back at him, landing halfway across the room as he rolled out of the way. "And Nix's chose blues and dark silvers – ever the royal, Nix – " the Shade teen just rolled his eyes at his friends comments, knowing full well that he very rarely played up to his heritage. "Mine… well, mine changes. I guess I like too many colors," Dawn shrugged.

"Nah, you're just indecisive," Nix shot back, grinning.

"Or, you know, completely insane," Connor muttered, barely half-serious.

"Well, so long as I have the option of which to be," Dawn laughed, completely not insulted. Harry stared at them in disbelief: despite the times the three older teens had visited Grimmauld Place, though Nix only since the attack on Dawn and Connor, he'd never seen them quite this relaxed and playful. Seems they'd been a little on guard in such a historically Dark house, and probably for very good reason. He then descended into laughter, watching as the three teens bickered good–naturedly. In the back of his mind, he knew that he could learn a lot from them: seeing them so relaxed, despite the things they'd faced was something he was determined to manage himself. In his heart, he knew that he'd been far too harsh on his friends, and he needed to try to relax and just be a teenager sometimes. Or he'd lose them, and Harry couldn't stand the thought of that.

"Will we still be going to Grimmauld Place?" the younger boy asked, his friends foremost in his thoughts.

"Sure, you'll be coming on our visits every afternoon, and so long as you give Buffy warning, you can stay over whenever. Half our patrols end there anyway, we don't like the idea of our presence being too obvious, so we agreed with the Order that we'd swing by every other night. Con, Nix and I shouldn't be too blatant, especially after my face-change," Dawn answered, reassuring him.

"So, how long before I start being kept out of the loop?" Harry asked, slightly bitterly.

"Why would we cut you out?" Connor replied, frowning in confusion.

"Everybody does it," Harry muttered, annoyance rising up. He was sick of being treated like a kid who couldn't be trusted in case he got himself hurt. The slightly cynical part of his mind pointed out that he managed that well enough when he wasn't told anything whatsoever, but Harry ignored it.

"Won't happen," Nix shrugged.

"Buffy realized that keeping me and Nix out didn't work, so I highly doubt she'll try the same with you. Besides, if she does, we'll just kick her ass," Dawn grinned. Harry looked stunned, so she clarified: "Nix and I got really good at eavesdropping, Spike was willing to teach us to fight, not to mention the magick usage we already had down. We involved ourselves, and once she figured out that we weren't going to stop, she trained us herself, and settled for making damn sure we could handle ourselves in any situation."

"Does that mean I can train? Learn to fight?" Harry asked, leaning forward in earnest.

"We'll ask, kid," Connor answered. Harry scowled at the word 'kid', but persisted.

"Then I could help, and be able to look after myself, and people wouldn't need to keep _protecting _me all the time," the youngest Potter argued.

"Harry, I promise we'll ask about training you. But its not worth the wrath of Buffy to just start now," Nix placated him, tossing sharp glare at Connor.

"She's small but deadly," Dawn agreed, nodding sagely. And despite the rather odd start, Harry had the distinct feeling of being home.


	45. Definitely Different

Harry gazed up at the ceiling, unwilling to move from the comfort of the bed. This was the first time he had ever been anything but eager to go to Hogwarts on September 1st. Then again, this was the first summer that he was leaving a family of his own behind – Sirius, Remus and Buffy would all be staying in London, and after a month living at the Council HQ, the three surviving _true_ Marauders had become almost parents to him: Buffy as a mix of aunt, mother and protector, Sirius as father and brother rolled into one, and Remus was more like an uncle and guide. Then there was Dawn, his aunt who was more like an older sister, and the two 'older brothers' he'd gained in Connor and Nix, even if they didn't appear to be able to get along for more than ten seconds. At least his 'siblings' would be at Hogwarts this year, all in their seventh and only year at the magical school. He'd also be leaving the first bedroom he'd had, as he obviously disregarded his old cupboard, and the unwillingly passed over Dudley's second bedroom. Generally, bars on the window stop a room from being a sanctuary. His room at the Council, on the other hand… Definitely homey. He was almost sorry to be leaving it for the familiar dormitory that he'd inhabited for the past four years.

During the last month living at the Watchers' Council, Harry's life had definitely changed. He'd begun training within two days of moving in, and his friends had joined him before the end of the first week, having successfully convinced Mrs. Weasley that the t'ai chi he was learning wouldn't actually teach them to fight, and the rest of his training was only designed to increase his fitness and agility. Needless to say, they'd argued it mainly on the basis of increasing their Quidditch skills, Hermione claiming that t'ai chi was a known stress reliever. Harry was still hoping to get some actual combat training, but he was happy with the progress on the training front. As another first, he'd been able to do his homework in comfort, not hiding under his sheets at night. Possibly because of this, he was more confident than he could remember that his assignments would score well, if not highly – though he'd probably lose at least half marks on his Potions simply for being himself. To be fair, his improved homework could be done to the willing help of his 'siblings' and 'parents', not to mention the rest of the Scoobies, who could often offer a place to look, if not a solution.

The three seventeen year olds had been right about him being kept in the loop – Giles had even invited him to Council meetings, reasoning that if he was living in the building, he had a right to know what was taking place, and that perhaps by understanding the inherent dangers in their lifestyle, he would more easily accept the sometimes incredibly odd warnings and temporary rules handed down to him. Through this, he'd become involved in the day-to-day life of the Watcher's Council, mainly comprised of manning the front desk for the odd shift, and occasionally helping to take deliveries. He had to admit, it took a while to get used to being thanked so genuinely for things he'd have been expected – ordered – to do at the Dursleys'. He could still remember his third day at the Council, when a harried Willow had almost passed out with gratitude when he'd offered to cook the evening's meal for her, seeing her buried under piles of spell research. Since the discovery that Harry could cook (at least his imprisonment in Privet Drive had taught him something useful, he supposed), Willow, Andrew and Dawn had included him in the meal rota, along with Lupin – Sirius could just about manage toast, and then it tended to be burnt – when they'd expressed a wish to help out more.

His father's oldest friends had changed a lot living under the Council's roof, as well. Both seemed happier, and moved with renewed purpose that had been somewhat lost living in the cramped conditions of Grimmauld Place. And Harry wouldn't doubt that even without the extra opportunities in their new situation, Sirius especially would have been a hundred times happier than he'd been in his ancestral home. His godfather had been spending a lot of time with Dawn, using his knowledge of Wizarding Pureblood customs and politics to help her find the right approach as the Council's emissary to the Ministry. Privately Dawn had told Harry that once they managed to dispel the charges against Sirius, she was planning to offer the position to him almost instantly. Remus had already been hired to work alongside Giles and Andrew – the werewolf had become almost instantly enamored with the massive library, and when approached about being joint head of the department he had jumped at the chance. After all, the Research and Ancient Artifacts department, as it was now called, really did need more than one person guiding it. His acceptance had clued the Council members in as to just how biased the Ministry was against werewolves, Giles had begun a project to investigate the options for the werewolf populations, and given the reins over to Remus.

Around the Council's work, Buffy and Sirius (with Remus sitting in to keep them on track) had been teaching Harry, and the other three teenagers about the way the Wizarding World worked, giving Harry his first insight into the family he was a part of, its traditions, power and legacy. As a bonus, most lessons ended with various stories about the Marauders in Hogwarts, meaning for the first time he knew more than the bare minimum about his parents. Dawn had obviously had a lot of these lessons before, as she seemed to barely pay attention, or perhaps she'd picked a lot of the etiquette stuff up from Nix, who regularly interjected with tips about the wider world, or different ways to manage things. Harry supposed being raised as royalty had impressed half their instruction into the Shade's head. On the other hand, Harry had no idea that being a Potter would mean quite so much politics. But, as Remus explained when he commented, it was better to be able to outmaneuver an opponent than end up in a duel. Or as Sirius put it, these skills could get him out of detention easily.

Despite the change in residence, he had not been separated from his friends very much at all. He and his 'siblings' had visited Grimmauld Place every other day, both to visit the Weasleys and Hermione, and to conduct their training in the room they'd claimed. Sirius had unsurprisingly stayed away, and so he and Remus only returned to his ancestral home on the evenings of meetings, with Dawn and occasionally another Scooby accompanying them. By some unknown agreement, the entire Weasley clan, Hermione, and often a few other Order members had a standing invitation to the Council for Sunday lunch, and also on a Wednesday night for dinner (in reality, the deal was nominally to give Molly a break from cooking such large meals every day, but served nicely to reassure the Order of Harry's safety and Mrs Weasley of his good treatment). The first time Molly had walked in to see Harry working with Dawn to prepare the meal, she had almost broken a window with the force of her displeasure. Of course, both teens had quickly reassured her that they _enjoyed_ cooking, and were both good at it, and had _offered_.

Between all this, he had managed to make it to Diagon Alley twice, and had had a couple of trips into Muggle London as well. As Dawn's department had little to do besides attending Order meetings, she'd convinced Buffy that she, Connor and Nix were more than strong enough and fast enough to protect Harry should something go wrong, and after a particularly taxing training session, they'd been allowed to go. Harry had then found himself in the rather odd position of being the supposedly 'knowledgeable' member of the group, and had been entirely relieved when Remus had asked to accompany them. Apparently, the werewolf's new salary meant he could afford to replace some of his battered and threadbare belongings, and he would also be purchasing a number of items for Sirius. With Remus' help, they'd made their way to Oxford Street, and suddenly realized their mistake as Dawn went into a previously unknown 'serious-shopping-mode', that Harry privately thought might resemble the seriousness of the nightly demon hunt, the way she searched things out. Nevertheless, they'd all survived, Harry thought with a grin at his ceiling. During the course of these trips, Harry had been presented with a Muggle debit card, linked to the existing Potter account, as well as a small book of parchment bearing the Gringotts seal, which apparently served as a Muggle cheque book for his own vault.

"Still in bed, Pronglet?"

His godfather's amused voice broke his thoughts, and Harry automatically grinned. His new family had brought about another change – nicknames. All three Marauders called him Pronglet, eventually explaining that Sirius had used it when he was a baby, and they'd picked it up. Buffy and Dawn also occasionally called him 'kiddo', and he'd yet to convince them otherwise. He'd also had to get used to the Marauders referring to Dawn as 'Pixie', and each other by their old nicknames. In fact, all four teens had become accustomed to getting more of a response (especially from Sirius) by yelling the Marauder names. And that didn't even cover the strange habit of speaking in the third person they seemed capable of dropping into.

Harry sat up, leaning back on his pillows to look over at his doorway. Raising one eyebrow, he asked:

"You're awake before noon?"

"I'm not that bad," Sirius argued jokingly, "Eleven at the latest, most days."

"Emphasis on the most," Harry muttered, grinning.

"Anyway, my sleeping habits aren't the problem here," the Animagus said, dragging the conversation back on track. "The fact is, you are lying in bed and the train leaves in two hours. And Willow said that if I don't get you downstairs in the next twenty minutes, I don't get any breakfast."

"Ah, so self-preservation is your motive," Harry replied, nodding his head wisely.

"Well, yes, but that's besides the point," Sirius countered, dropping unceremoniously onto the end of Harry's bed. "The point, Harry, is that you need to be up – you leave for school today! I'd love to be going back to Hogwarts…" he finished just a little wistfully.

Seeing his godfather slipping into memories of better times, Harry slipped out of bed and headed for the shower.

Forty minutes later, Council Lobby.

"Robes?"

"Yes, Buffy," four voices chorused, with varying degrees of annoyance. Dawn and Nix rolled their eyes at each other during the surprisingly long checklist the blonde Slayer was reeling off. So far, not one thing had been forgotten, and anything that was could just be sent by owl post, but the list continued. Connor merely grinned and allowed the process to pass him by, giving the automatic response in a blank tone. Harry, on the other hand, was enjoying the caring shown by the endless questions, it being the first time a family member had been around to care if he forgot something. Heaven knows the Dursleys wouldn't have given a toss.

"Books?" Buffy asked, checking her list.

"Buffy, that's the third time you've asked, and you've said everything else twice already. You're being paranoid," Dawn pointed out, tossing Harry a grin. The boy laughed quietly at his young aunt's typically irreverent behaviour, shaking his head slightly. He could hardly wait to see if the three elder teens continued their reign of terror – mainly random comments, and the occasional prank, really – once they hit Hogwarts. Mainly because he and Ron had a small bet on whether they'd team up with the twins and cause mass chaos or start a prank war and cause mass chaos, as until now the two sides had not set themselves against each other. Harry's Galleon was on the prank war, but that was because he'd seen how quickly the Council inhabitants had become used to checking any room as if it were a battle ground before entering, as living with the Marauders and the teens was almost considered an extreme sport, according to Xander.

"Details, details," the blonde Potter waved her hand dismissively, refusing to be embarrassed by her repetitions.

"Well, now we're all satisfied that everyone has everything," Remus smoothed over the moment, hiding a grin, "shall we get moving?"

The teens reached for their cases, Buffy snagging Harry's on the basis of super-strength. The Scoobies gave a round of hugs to the leaving teens, Harry starting slightly when he realised he was included in the rather enthusiastic goodbye session. Only Remus and Buffy would be accompanying the group to the station, with the rest needing to stay behind to run the Council. Sirius had argued the point for days, until Nix suggested placing him under a S.E.P. (Somebody Else's Problem charm) as Padfoot, so no one would notice the black dog, and he was then allowed to join the group, much to the Animagus' delight. Harry's surprise at being included obviously didn't go unnoticed, as when Xander clapped him on the back instead of hugging, the eye-patched man said quietly:

"Family isn't always who you're related to, it can be who you choose. We chose each other a long time ago, and now you're a part of that."

The hugs over, Sirius transformed, and Nix chanted softly for a moment, before declaring them ready to go. They'd be meeting the Weasleys and Hermione at King's Cross in half an hour, and there was Council limousine ready and waiting outside. They'd sent another to Grimmauld Place, having successfully convinced Moody that a private car, with a driver with full security clearance and in no way linked to the magical world was the safest possible option. Remus led the way out of the imposing building, the boot already open to receive the four trunks. Once they were safely stowed, the group settled into the limousine, Padfoot bounding inside. Looking out at the city through the tinted windows, Harry smiled to himself. Yeah, this definitely wasn't like another September 1st he'd ever experienced. And who knew what the year ahead would bring?

A/N: Okay, so the end's a little cheesy. But a little cheese every now and again won't kill us, right? Well, that's The Fifth Marauder done and dusted, and look out for the sequel, This Year's Girl, with in the next couple of days. I hope you've enjoyed, and haven't hated me too much for my ridiculously bad update rate. Thank you for reading.

~ FireSkies xxx


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